


When We Were Young

by hstevens5



Series: When We Were Young [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child Abuse, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Foster Care, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, References to Supernatural (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:47:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29256930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hstevens5/pseuds/hstevens5
Summary: Dean, Sam, and Y/N grew up together, but when she’s taken away for over 10 years, the boys have no idea what she’s been through. Will asking her to move into the bunker with them reveal more than she’s ready for?
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Series: When We Were Young [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148417
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback fuels me! 
> 
> Also if you feel so included, I'm on kofi! (Ko-fi.com/hstevens5)

You were young when you first knew the monsters under your bed were real. Most little girls would be terrified, but lucky for you, you had some pretty strong protectors against the forces of evil!

Your dad knew John and so you grew up playing tag with Sam and swooning over Dean once he grew into his lanky frame. John and your father used to poke fun at you, laughing over their nightly beers, while you followed Dean around pretending his flirting was so annoying. You thought you hid the crush well, until John pulled you into a hug one night calling you his ‘future daughter-in-law’ making your cheeks burn hot.

It wasn’t two weeks after that night that your father was killed in what they called a “freak animal attack,” and you were put into foster care, despite John’s very loud protests. Dean held you close as you cried into his chest, listening to John threaten every person he was transferred to for over three hours. He whispered that it would be okay in your ear, but you knew it probably wouldn’t be. They took you away from the Winchesters’ the day after your father’s funeral. You were 13. 

It was 10 years later when you first ran into Sam, of all people, at your day job at the Camden coroner’s office. Thank God he didn’t catch you at your night job… Dressed in his FBI best, he approached your desk, where you were rifling through the case files looking for potential leads. The coroner’s office was a great place to find cases, so you kept your low paying job for that reason, making more money at the bar on your night shift.

“Excuse me,” Sam started, approaching the desk and clearing his throat briefly, putting on his ‘in charge’ voice.

“What can I help you with?” You answered, not bothering to look up from the manilla folders in front of you. You heard the stranger stop abruptly, causing you to look up into clear grey eyes.

“…Y/N?” Sam asked, not sure of himself. You hadn’t seen the boys in over 10 years, and though you kept your feminine shape, the years taught you to hold yourself differently, and two jobs plus hunting had your hair sprouting grey, which you dyed every so often, when you had the money. You realized you hadn’t answered Sam’s inquiry, but continued to drink in his familiar aura. You were only a year older than Sam, but you recognized his young face, despite the fact that he was now towering over you and you could see the years hadn’t been kind to him either, noticing the frown lines between his eyebrows though he was smiling at your patiently.

You pushed away from your desk, rising to your feet before speaking. “Sam, wow, uh, it’s been awhile huh?” You questioned stupidly, moving from around your desk and into his long arms. He embraced you tight, and you inhaled his scent unabashedly, missing the familiar scent of gunpowder and something so uniquely Sam. You hugged him back, relishing in the feeling of his arms around you. You hadn’t held any romantic feelings toward Sam. He was more like your little brother than anything but having him stand in front of you brought tears to your eyes, realizing how much you truly missed him. Sam squeezed you once more before letting go.

“Uh,” you began, looking around briefly for any signs of your boss. You avoided Sam’s eyes as you waited for yours to stop watering. “Do you want to go somewhere and catch up?” You asked, hoping it would take his attention away from your face as you gathered your emotions. “It’s almost my break, and it looks pretty slow today anyway,” you shrugged grabbing your bag and heading toward the exit, not waiting for his response.

The bright afternoon sun blinded you as you rushed out of the double doors, and you thanked God for an excuse to wear your sunglasses. You lit a cigarette quickly, glancing guiltily at Sam standing watching you with a small smile on his face. You shrugged smashing the cigarette under your boot, realizing you were being judged.

“I only smoke when I’m stressed,” you said coughing out a laugh at how ridiculous you sounded. You also talk too much and fidget when you’re nervous you thought to yourself looking down at your fingers, which were picking at your black nail polish.

“Uh,” you began realizing it was awkwardly silent, and that Sam was still just staring. “So, lunch?” You asked brightly, turning to walk away. Sam grasped your upper arm lightly to get your attention, but you flinched subconsciously anyway, and he raised his hands in surrender when you whipped around defensively. He still had a small smile on his face, and you took a breath, imagining how unhinged you looked from Sam’s point of view.

“Just wait a second, Y/N,” Sam replied looking at you with his soft eyes, that continued to change colors. When you were younger, you used to poke fun at him for it, saying that he had ‘mood ring’ eyes and you could always tell what he was feeling just by looking at him. He hated that. The memory made you smile, and Sam smiled fully in return, leading you over to a bench just outside of the coroner’s office.

You sat down next to him, smoothing your hands over your dress pants, suddenly nervous of being so close to him again. You couldn’t explain it, but something about being near Sam reminded you of better days. Days you had repressed long ago. Sam seemed content to merely sit and continue to look at you, which made you more restless. He chuckled lowly, and you whipped your head up to see him smirking at you.

“You haven’t changed,” he muttered looking at you from under his shaggy hair. “I used to make you so nervous just by looking at you for an extended period of time. I think you were afraid I was reading your mind or something.” He chuckled again and you looked away, shaking your head lightly.

“Hey,” he started, tapping your thigh lightly so you’d look at him. You glanced up and he smiled again, letting out a long sigh. “I have to be honest,” he huffed out quickly. It was your turn to stare at him in confusion. “You were the last person I expected to see on a hunt.” He finished laughing humorlessly to himself. You didn’t question him further, but asked, “a hunt?”

He smirked, “yeah, I wanted to take a look at the bodies that were turning up with no hearts.” He looked at you anxiously, and you laughed at how much he reminded you of the little boy you used to know.

“Well, Sam,” you said with a smile. “You’re about a week too late. I killed that werewolf last week.” Sam lifted his head slowly, looking at you with his head tilted. You returned his look with one of your own and he burst out laughing, finishing with a look of awe.

“Well,” he said getting up and offering you his hand. “Dean is doing some now useless interviews around the corner. Why don’t we surprise him?” You glanced at his hand nervously, but took it, getting to your feet, and following him slowly toward the elder Winchester, who you recognized instantly.

Dean was lounging on a bench much like the one you and Sam had just left behind, his long legs spread out in front of him, while he was sipping on a coffee. You couldn’t help but smile, having never met these new adult Winchesters, and having ridiculous thoughts come to your mind, like how you didn’t know how Dean took his coffee. You figured either black or with a lot of sugar. He seemed to be chaotic like that, but you weren’t sure you were able to make those assumptions anymore. Dean hadn’t noticed you or Sam yet, and you stopped walking toward him, Sam not noticing your hesitation as he ambled toward his brother. You still have time. You can run away from this situation, back to the weird comfort of repression. They don’t have to know about your life.  
But as you considered your next move, it was too late. Sam was already approaching Dean and glancing around looking for you when he reached the bench. You were frozen far enough away that you couldn’t hear the brothers talking, but you saw Dean rip his sunglasses off his face and stand up, leaving his coffee on the bench next to him. You didn’t know what to do, so as Dean headed toward you, you raised your hand pathetically, sprawling your fingers in a motion of ‘hi.’ 10 years and all you could think of was to wave, Jesus Y/N. Dean smirked as he headed toward you and you could tell he was thinking the exact same thing.

You took a moment to drink Dean in as he walked forward, much like you had his brother. But unlike Sam, Dean’s presence made you feel all warm and tingly inside, like you were a horny teenager, and the thoughts made you shake your head roughly to dislodge the teenage thoughts you once had about the older Winchester. Before you had much time to be embarrassed, you were being wrapped in strong arms again. Dean, like his brother, smelled like home, but with a mix of darkness added, like whiskey drank at 10:00 in the morning. Dean wasn’t quite as tall as Sam, and though he still towered over you, reaching up on your tiptoes you were able to rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, something you did time and time again when you were young. You felt Dean sigh, like he hadn’t breathed in years, and you instantly relaxed against him.

“So,” he spoke up gently. He always had the uncanny ability to be soft and comforting to you when the rest of the world saw him as cruel and unrelenting. “I hear you handled the hunt for us like a pro, huh baby?” He spoke like this was a question, but you couldn’t answer, too caught up in hearing his private nickname for you after all these years. He felt you smile against his neck, and he increased his hold on you. What you couldn’t see, however, were the two Winchesters silently hatching a plan. You weren’t going to be able to disappear from their life this time.

_______________________________________________________________________

That reunion was over three years ago, and you had been living in the bunker for two and a half now, room 13 becoming yours, not only because it was close to Dean’s, though he didn’t need to know that, but 13 was your father’s lucky number. Sam, ever superstitious, thought for sure something was going to happen to you in such an unlucky room.

“They don’t even include floor 13 in hotels, Y/N!” He exasperatedly yelled one night at dinner all arms flailing when you said you found what room you wanted. Dean had listened quietly eating his food until then.

“So, what do they do with floor 13? Leave it empty? Or do they just skip to 14? But wouldn’t that mean that floor 14 was actually floor 13?” Sam just stared at his brother as you burst out laughing at Dean, who was actually being serious in that moment.

“Shut up, Dean!” Sam yelled back, and Dean shrugged his shoulders, giving you a wink, returning back to his food. Sam gave up with a quick “don’t come to me if something happens,” and you shushed him knowing he was being melodramatic.

The first year went by quickly, each night spent catching up on each other’s lives, but more the boys telling you stories of their various hunts, and Sam’s brief college career. John had died right before the boys found you again, and you spent an entire week reminiscing on John and your own father. It was comforting, but most of all it was easy. At least for a while.

The nightmares returned almost exactly a year after you agreed to move in with the boys. Your room was nowhere near Sam’s, so you didn’t have to worry about him, but Dean was a little more of a concern, and you weren’t about to explain what was making you wake up shaking, suppressing screams, every night. 

Sure, hunters had nightmares, but usually they stayed in the bedroom. About a month into the same nightmare every night and you were jumping at every shadow on the wall in the bunker.

One afternoon, Dean walked into the library when you happened to be in a chair with your back to him, when his shoe squeaked and you screamed so loud Dean froze in place and Sam rushed in, gun at the ready. You played off your scream on seeing a spider, but the boys were starting to become suspicious and concerned.

It was nearly 4:00am when you finally slipped out from beneath the covers, failing to fall asleep from your nightmare hours before. You decided you’d make an early breakfast for the boys, knowing Sam was usually awake before 5:00 for his run, and Dean couldn’t resist the sizzle of bacon no matter how early it was.

You changed out of your sleep shorts into some sweats and put on a sports bra under your loose shirt before shuffling to the kitchen, pouring coffee grinds into the coffee maker to start.

Before you knew it, you were flipping pancakes and bacon was sizzling loudly in a pan on the stove. Not entirely sure why, but you were humming ‘Sweet Caroline,’ when a hand on your shoulder sent you back to the dark closet, and you were screaming loudly, dropping the pan and yourself to the floor, bacon grease sizzling sharply against your skin. You were still locked in that dark closet in your mind, while Dean was shouting your name, hoisting you up and running your burned hand under cool water. The sizzle of your skin when the water hit it woke you from your nightmare and you ripped your hand out from Dean’s as if he burned you, walking back toward your room.

“Y/N!” Dean shouted after you, shocked from your reaction moments ago, and your reaction to his hand on yours.

You continued walking away from him out of the kitchen and into the war room when you felt his hand on your shoulder again.

“Leave it alone, Dean!” You shouted into Dean’s face, not looking into his bright green eyes, which held nothing but concern. Turning around again, you brushed past the other confused and concerned hunter on your way to your room, slamming the door with finality.


	2. Chapter 2

You slammed the door behind you, slipping down it’s smooth surface allowing the tears to fall. What is wrong with me? Not only had you completely embarrassed yourself in front of Dean, but you yelled in his face. He had to be furious with you. You’d be lucky if he spoke to you again. 

Minutes passed with you continuing to spiral, your head banging softly against the wooden door of it’s own accord. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. The rhythm was soothing, and you felt your eyelids start to droop when you heard and felt a different type of knocking, more anxious. More aggressive. You tensed thinking it was Dean. You couldn’t face him yet.

“Y/N?” You heard softly through the door. Sam. Of course. You didn’t answer, but you stopped the rhythmic slamming of your own head against the door. 

You heard a soft sign and a thud as Sam must have placed his forehead against the door. 

“Y/N, please. Dean said you hurt your hand… let me help.” You paused, your hands pressed flat on the cold tile floor. Hurt your hand? 

Looking down you gasped seeing the angry red blisters forming on your right hand, and suddenly, as if a switch were flipped, you felt the pain of the grease burning your hand and you cried out sharply, grasping the injured hand to your chest. You felt the tears streaming down your face again, as you sobbed loudly, your hand throbbing with pain. 

“Y/N!” Sam was shouting now, hearing you cry on the other side of the door. You couldn’t move afraid of the sharp pain you felt moments ago, but you were also afraid of Sam breaking down the door with you leaning against it, his pounding fists growing louder. You scooted slowly away from the door on your butt until you felt the soft side of your mattress. Leaning against it you let out another cry more out of frustration for the situation you put yourself in then the pain of your hand. In that moment you needed someone there with you, but couldn’t ask for it as you continued to spiral into your own mind. You clenched your injured fist tightly letting out another cry of pain. 

Luckily, it was Sam at your door and not Dean, so he simply picked the lock and entered moments after your mind shut itself down and you lay limp on the cool tile. You heard the door open with a creak, and felt the draft as Sam rushed in, kneeling down next to you and wasting no time, grabbing your injured hand in his. You looked up at him with blank eyes, barely seeing him. 

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Sam muttered, as he unballed your injured fist slowly and began applying a cool cream to the raised blisters that instantly soothed your hand. You were beginning to recognize where you were again, and let out a quiet sob, gaining Sam’s attention. He was carefully checking over your hand moving it this way and that in the light to make sure he covered all of the blisters with the burn cream. But his eyes didn’t stay on your hand the entire time. From his position, you could see he was glancing back toward the door. Glancing back at someone. It dawned on you all at once. 

“Don’t let Dean see me!” You called out, not able to control the volume of your voice. You hadn’t meant for it to come out quite as offensive as it did, but clearly Dean heard you loud and clear, slamming your door behind him. Sam looked at you, grimacing when the door slammed loudly. 

“I hadn’t meant it like that.” You whispered aloud continuing to beat yourself up over the entire situation. 

“I know,” Sam breathed out. “Let’s get you up in bed and I’ll wrap your hand.” 

You nodded, and felt Sam’s arm snake around your shoulders and help you to a sitting position, then up to your feet. You were shaky, but held yourself up while Sam pulled back your sheet and comforter. You slipped under them, and Sam sat on the edge of your bed wrapping your hand with soft gauze. When he was finished, you thanked Sam quietly, and he ran a hand gently through your hair, tucking it behind your ear, before leaving your room and closing the door softly behind him. You didn’t sleep that night. 

—————————————————-

Since that morning, Dean hadn’t met your eye level and never tried to touch you again. You didn’t blame him, but you missed just friendly hugs or the way he would softly ruffle your hair as he passed on his way to the garage or something. And you missed looking into his bright green eyes each morning and being awarded with a Dean Winchester smile. You didn’t know what to say to him, or how to tell him you were sorry, without it developing into a conversation you didn’t want to have. So you kept quiet, and went about your life. The bunker was quiet as the boys did the same and when they went on a hunt, leaving you behind at your request, the bunker was deafening, with only your demons in the closet to keep you company. 

As the weeks went by, you began to spiral even more. Every sound the bunker made, which you thought you had gotten used to months ago, had you cowering or hiding in your room. You hadn’t ever dealt with your past, and living alone for all those years was what you were used to. The nightmares only got worse. In every one you were trapped in the same room, in the same dark closet, with the same people over and over again. And it never ended. Every time you closed your eyes, it was like watching an old VHS. It would start from where you jolted awake the night before. 

Which was exactly what just happened. You shot upright in bed with a short scream that you cut off quickly, straining your ears to make sure you hadn’t woken the boys. Glancing at the clock on your bedside table you saw it was barely 1:30am, but you knew you wouldn’t allow yourself to go back to sleep. Not when the same situation was waiting for you behind closed eyes. With a heavy sigh you lifted yourself off of the bed, resigning to a night of research. Sam needed some help with some of the symbols they had found deep in the bunker last week anyway. 

You creaked open your door as soundlessly as you could, and stepped out into the cold hallway. The air let out a soft groan and you squeaked, mentally kicking yourself to shut up, as you were right outside of Dean’s room and the door was cracked. You slapped a hand quickly over your mouth hoping he didn’t hear you when you heard the springs in his bed creak and you sighed, hearing his footsteps coming toward you. 

“Y/N?” He asked, peeking his head out of the door his hair looking adorably sleep mussed. You smiled to yourself, and Dean smiled back for the first time in weeks. Your knees went a little weak, and you realized he was asking you a question. 

“Uh, hey,” you awkwardly replied, shuffling your feet a little, unsure where this conversation was heading, but figured you’d be honest for once. “I couldn’t sleep, so I was going to go see if I could get anywhere with those ancient symbols for Sam.” Dean let out an “ah” sound in reply, and you shrugged your shoulders, beginning to walk away, when you saw Dean reach for you out of the corner of your eye, but he held back. Feeling guilty, you stopped and turned toward him. 

“Uh, listen. Can we talk for a sec?” He looked nervous as he asked, but once the words were out he looked you in the eye, both resolute and unwavering, telling you there wasn’t much choice. You nodded and he gestured to let you into his room. 

Dean’s room was warmer than yours, more homey, and you inhaled leather and whiskey right off. You missed being in his room. After your moment, you hadn’t been invited for movie night with him anymore. You understood, but being in here made you think of his booming laughter echoing off the walls and the sound of candy being shaken into eager hands. It reminded you of childhood with your best friend. The thought made you tear up, but Dean cleared his throat and you choked back the tears turning back toward him. 

“Y/N, what’s going on with you?” He looked uncomfortable again and you shrugged your shoulders in response, feigning ignorance to what he was talking about. Dean sighed in his typical ‘no nonsense’ way, and scrubbed a hand down his face. 

“Don’t do that.” He sounded exhausted and you felt a bit guilty in that moment thinking you had also kept Dean up just as much as you kept yourself up. “I know you better than anyone, baby. I always have. Just tell me what’s going on.” You had been looking down at the floor, but looked into his eyes when he used his nickname for you. You don’t know me as well as you think you do, Dean. 

You took a deep breath, ready to sweep this whole situation under the rug and get back to normal life, normal Dean, normal Sam. Normal Y/N. 

“Honestly, Dean,” you had a smile lightly plastered to your face and hoped it was convincing, at least in the dim lighting. “Nothings going on. I think all of the hunting has just been getting to me, and I started having some nightmares. The morning a couple weeks ago was nothing, you just caught me off guard. It’s not a big deal.” You decided to tell him like an eighth of the truth, and hope it worked, but you could tell by the way he flared his nostrils that he knew you were lying. 

“You think I don’t notice, Y/N, but I do. I see the way you flinch at small sounds, or when Sam brushes against you without you knowing it. It’s like you’re afraid of your own shadow lately. And you think no one hears you at night, but we hear when you have nightmares and the things you scream…” He trailed off looking uncomfortable for the millionth time tonight and you were starting to lose patience that he wouldn’t just drop the situation. But what he had said was beginning to stick in your mind. 

“What I scream? What are you talking about?” You had been certain that every time you woke up from a nightmare you cut the scream off instantly. Certain that you weren’t waking the boys. Had you been wrong? 

Dean looked like he regretted saying anything, but he looked deep in your eyes, letting you know he was telling the truth. “You scream out for someone to stop… begging ‘no’ and ‘not again.’ Y/N… It sounds like someone is or has been abusing you. Over and over…” He finished and looked straight into your eyes, like Sam did when he was younger, trying to read you. But you were determined for him not to see how much truth there was to his words. 

“Uh, look, I’m feeling really tired. I think I’ll try to sleep again,” you were slowly backing up toward the door, attempting to remove yourself from this conversation. But as you turned to leave, Dean grabbed your arm, and you ripped it back fear coursing through you. 

“Stop!” You screamed. Even though you knew you weren’t in danger with Dean, something about being touched when you’re unprepared sends you into fight or flight. “Don’t touch me!” 

“Y/N!” Dean yelled back, making you shrink away. “This is exactly what I’m talking about!” His voice was raising as he was coming toward you and you ripped open his door scurrying into the hall and crashing into what felt like a brick wall. You realized it was Sam and backed further away, feeling trapped in a situation you wanted nothing to do with. Dean had followed you into the hallway and with both Winchesters blocking the exits, you had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. Trapped.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠️ Warning⚠️ this chapter is pretty dark.  
> Warnings: Angst, Mentions of trauma/abuse, brief moments of self-harm, mentions of anxiety attack

_You heard Dean’s voice as you hid in the darkness._

_“Ready or not! Here I come!”_

_You felt Sam shift next to you and heard his innocent little giggle of anticipation of being found by his big brother. You shushed him lightly with a smile to let him know you weren’t serious. You didn’t care if Dean found you two, if anything that meant you were in for a relentless tickle war between you and the young Winchesters, with loser buying the candy for movie night, meaning begging Bobby to pay for the candy. And you always won because little known fact, Dean’s feet are ticklish and you always pinned him long enough for him to call “uncle.”_

_Sam begged you and Dean to play ‘hide & seek,’ and though both of you claimed to be “too old for kid games,” Sam’s puppy dog eyes won you over. And you always won over Dean. He agreed to count first if you and him could play Mario later and you nodded, knowing you’d say yes to anything involving hanging out with Dean. John and your father had been gone about a week on their latest hunt, leaving you to entertain an 8 year old Sam and a moody ‘almost’ teenage Dean at Bobby’s house. You were almost 10 and stuck between wanting to be a kid like Sam, but wanting Dean’s attention just as much. It honestly was a dilemma._

_Dean smirked at your response and started counting and you and Sam took off running toward the upstairs of Bobby’s house, tucking yourself deep into a bedroom closet under some old blanket. The perfect hiding place, if you kept totally quiet. Which Sam wasn’t._

_The perfect hiding place. Perfect hiding place. Hiding place… hide!_

_You were cowering under a blanket tucked deep in your foster parents’ bedroom, when you heard the giggling._

_“Y/N!” Your older foster brother sing-songed, searching for you in the bedroom. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”_

_After your father’s funeral, you jumped from foster home to foster home, always the only child, with too much attention from the foster parents. You began acting out for negative attention, and the agency decided it was a better fit to have you in a home with other kids. So you ended up with the Wilson family, which included their eldest Greg who was sixteen, and young Daniel, their newest foster. The thought of having brothers again was exciting, but you had been in this foster home for only 2 days when you woke up to Greg creeping into your room late one night. You tried to talk to your foster mom about it, but Greg was her biological son, and he could do no wrong in her eyes. She just giggled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and saying “boys will be boys.” The door to your bedroom opened every night for the next 7 nights and then your foster mom went on a weekend trip with your foster dad and left Greg to babysit you and young Daniel, who was only five._

_The first day alone, when Greg agreed to ‘hide & seek’ Daniel squealed excitedly, and Greg wolf grinned at you, whispering for you to find a big area away from Daniel for you and him to have some fun. You shuddered in response, yanking Daniel by the hand up the stairs as you heard Greg start counting._

_“Ready or not here I come!”_

_Daniel giggled in anticipation of his older brother finding him and you shushed him once angrily, watching as his eyes fell, no longer enjoying the game. It broke your heart to ruin Daniel’s fun, but this was no longer a game. And with Greg searching in the bedroom you were trapped._

**Trapped.**

With Sam and Dean blocking the exits you slid down the wall to a seated position pulling your legs up to your chest, curling yourself into a ball, as small as you could, hoping it would cause them to just lose interest like Greg did a few times, unable to unhook your arms from your legs.

Dean and Sam gave each other worried looks before Sam knelt down to your level careful not to touch you. Dean watched cautiously from the sidelines, realizing his reaction to the situation was more harmful than helpful. Sam was much better at getting through to people.

You were rocking back and forth slowly, humming “Sweet Caroline,” softly to yourself, realizing that it was so comforting because it was what Dean used to sing when he wanted to make you laugh. The “bum bum bum” part always threw you into a fit of giggles the more dramatic he performed it. Greg would always shout at you to shut up if he heard you humming it, during the darkest moments.

“Y/N? Sweetheart…?” Sam tried, careful to gauge your reaction to his voice. He attempted to keep his tone as calm and level as possible, but could feel his heart pounding, concern and worry at the situation coursing through him. You didn’t react to his voice, but he noticed you stopped humming, almost as if you were listening. He took that as a good sign.

“Sweetheart, how about you let me and Dean help you off the floor? You’re safe here, Y/N, we won’t hurt you.” You were nodding to yourself now and Sam didn’t know if it was in agreement or if you were reacting to something else entirely. He glanced up at Dean, seeing the worry etched across his features. Sam jumped when he heard your voice.

“Hey, Sammy?” You weren’t necessarily looking at him but your chin was resting on your arms now rather than hidden. Sam made sure to move slowly to face you again.

“Yes, sweetheart?” You cracked a small smile, glancing up into his eyes, which were a dark, almost navy blue. He’s worried, you thought to yourself. Mood ring eyes.

“Remember when you were probably around 8, and Dean was almost a teenager and John and my dad went on a hunt leaving us at Bobby’s?” It was asked as a question, but Sam merely nodded, unsure of where this was going. You had a smile on your face, lost in one of your favorite memories. “You convinced me to play ‘hide and seek,’ and I so wanted to tell you I didn’t wanna play any baby games. I wanted to look cool in front of Dean.” You chuckled to yourself and Sam smiled, looking at Dean, who was intensely listening, an unreadable look on his face.

“You had this way of convincing me to do things. It wasn’t your puppy dog eyes, though those helped too, but more your excitement of being around me and Dean. You just wanted to be around us and it was so annoying at the time.” You laughed again, looking at Sam who looked mildly offended, and you unballed yourself enough to place a hand on Sam’s arm. “But endearing.” You finished, watching Sam roll his eyes lightly and you retracted your hand, curling back up.

“You convinced me to play hide and seek and for some reason I was able to convince Dean…” You were deep in thought, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you gathered your thoughts and Sam and Dean didn’t dare interrupt you. “And me and you hid in the back of Bobby’s closet. The perfect hiding place.” You didn’t seem to be speaking to Sam and Dean anymore, but rather yourself as you fixed your stare on one of the bricks on the wall in front of you.

“I’ve hid in the back of a closet since then… but it wasn’t the perfect hiding spot that time.” You had tears in your eyes as you looked at Sam, who was still crouched down to your level. “It wasn’t perfect.” You repeated and Sam slowly reached out, placing his hand on your knee. You shifted slightly at his touch, but didn’t jerk away.

“Can I go back to sleep now?” You asked, looking into Sam’s steel grey eyes. They kept changing color but you were too tired to read them for emotion anymore.

“Of course…” Sam answered, waiting for your next move before making his.

“Can I sleep in your room?” You asked suddenly, lifting your head up to look at Dean for the first time since falling to the floor. Dean looked startled and unsure of what to say. Sam was starring daggers at his brother silently begging him to figure his shit out and fast. Dean cleared his throat and murmured “of course,” and you got to your feet walking in that direction, pausing at the door and waiting for Dean. Sam rose to his feet, and you waved shyly, as Dean ushered you into the room and closed the door.

——————

Behind closed doors, you were unsure of yourself again. The familiar smell of Dean’s bedroom cleared your head a bit and you panicked. What are you doing in here?!

“Uh,” Dean started, clearing his throat again, making you jump a little. “What side do you want to sleep on?” He questioned quietly, standing in your peripheral, and waiting for your answer. You pointed to the right side of the bed and he nodded climbing under the covers on the left and turning away from where you would lay. You took a deep breath and crawled into his bed. Dean clicked off his table lamp and bathed the room in darkness. You lay silently on your back, holding your breath trying to control the erratic pounding of your heart. Dean stirred lightly, turning to lay on his back as well. It was silent for a moment.

“I remember playing hide and seek that day.” Dean spoke quietly, unsure of himself in this moment. But you turned on your side to rest on your arm so you could look at him.

“Yeah?” You questioned, wanting to know what was on his mind. More and more you were unable to read this man like you could when you were kids and it was frustrating. He seemed almost as guarded as you were and you actually needed him to speak his mind to you.

He turned toward you mirroring your position. “Yeah, you and Sam were curled up under that musty old blanket in the back of Bobby’s closet. I remember I was so mad because I could hear Sam giggling but it sounded muffled so I thought it was coming from other rooms.” You smiled at the memory, watching Dean scrunch his eyebrows in concentration, trying to remember something that happened almost 15 years ago. Seeing your smile, Dean continued with his memory.

“I figured we would play ‘hide & seek’ for maybe half an hour to get Sam to leave us alone, and then spend the afternoon playing Mario, but we went back and forth hiding and seeking for the entire day. I think that’s the most I had ever hung out with my kid brother…” He smiled fondly at the memory.

“It was dark outside when I finally found you the last time in that tiny bathroom cabinet.” You snorted quietly, remembering how hard it was to squeeze yourself into that hiding place and you cursed the fact that you had begun growing hips and were filling out some.

Dean watched you as you filled in the rest of the memory for yourself with a smile on his face. He reached up slowly, moving a piece of hair from in front of your face to behind your ear, the pads of his fingers sliding carefully across your cheek, leaving your skin feeling hot. You closed your eyes at his touch, and his hand lingered at the back of your head, fingers softly curled in your hair.

You had a flash of hair pulling and a voice screaming at you to just listen and do what he wanted, and you jerked your head back, causing Dean to unintentionally pull your hair. You cried out softly, tears falling from your eyes, the memory lingering.

“Hey, hey, baby, it’s okay.” Dean whispered softly, as you inched yourself away from him. “I’m sorry.” He murmured, reaching out for you carefully. You resigned to your need for comfort and scooted into his open arms, letting him cradle you against his chest. Breathing in whiskey and leather, mixed with what you thought was vanilla, you pressed your hand against his heart, feeling it beat steadily against your palm. You attempted to match your breathing to his and waited for the silent tears to stop. Dean rubbed soothing circles against your back, and softly against your head where your hair had been pulled.

You didn’t know why, but between the safety of Dean’s arms and the security of the darkness, you spoke out loud what had been weighing on your soul for more than half your life.

“When my dad died, and John couldn’t get custody, I went into the system back in New Jersey. Honestly, it’s not quite as bad there as other states, and I actually was placed with some really cool people. I especially miss the man I was with who was clearly gay, that taught me how to perfect the smokey eye look.” You chuckled, and you felt the rumble in Dean’s chest as he murmured along, his hands continuing to comfort you in any way that he could.

“As I went from home to home I got sick of all the attention. Most people were nice, and I had everything I needed, but I don’t know, I missed the drama. And I missed sharing my dad with the hunt. It sounds backwards, but we tried so hard to fit big moments into small amounts of time and that made those moments so much more special. The everyday wasn’t appealing anymore.” You felt Dean’s head nod, not wanting to interrupt you, but let you know he understood nonetheless.

“Anyway, when I started acting out, they decided I needed to go to a home with other kids to level me out. Or knock me down a peg, who knows. I was placed with a couple that had a sixteen-year-old son and were fostering a five year old. I was thrilled because instantly I thought of you and Sam…” You glanced up into Dean’s cool green eyes guiltily. He only smiled, urging you to continue.

“Things were okay to start. Back to normal life, but the sixteen-year-old Greg, was moody and would act out and I liked the drama he created. And I liked him. He was what you would probably consider ‘emo’ today, with long dark hair and a lip ring. I followed him around the first day or so, like I used to do with you, just curious how he spent his days. And I don’t know maybe I led him on…”

Dean’s grip tensed as you trailed off, and he tilted your chin so you could look him in the eye. A silent tear slipped down your cheek, and you saw anger flash behind the forest green of his irises before he swiped at the tear with the pad of his thumb. You couldn’t stand seeing his reaction, but you had gone too far to stop now.

“He started sneaking into my bedroom at night, but because his parents were home, he couldn’t exactly do what he wanted. But it didn’t matter because I told his mom and she didn’t care… thankfully he didn’t find that out.” You could feel how tense Dean was getting and his hands stopped moving across your back, but you had to get this out. Had to confess to someone what happened.

“My foster parents left me and the five year old, Daniel, alone for a whole weekend with Greg. I still remember how excited he looked and how he wouldn’t stop staring at me as they told us the plans over dinner. The weekend came and Daniel was in a mood. Wanted us to play with him and I made sure to keep him entertained while Greg brooded about, not able to do what he wanted. When Daniel suggested ‘hide and seek,’ Greg jumped on the opportunity, telling me to hide away from Daniel and we’d finally have our time. I clung to Daniel and rushed to find a hiding spot. The perfect hiding spot…” You glanced at Dean and saw the pieces of the night click into place.

“I shoved Daniel into the upstairs closet covering him with a blanket and was about to hide with him when I thought of a better idea. My foster dad had a gun safe and my dad taught me how to break into those early on. I grabbed the Glock and waited in the closet under the blanket with Daniel.” You tensed, anticipating the conclusion of the story and suddenly afraid of how Dean would react to what you were about to say. You took a deep breath before speaking.

“And when Greg opened the closet door and pulled back the blanket, I emptied the clip into his chest.”


	4. Chapter 4

_You tensed, anticipating the conclusion of the story and suddenly afraid of how Dean would react to what you were about to say. You took a deep breath before speaking._

_“And when Greg opened the closet door and pulled back the blanket, I emptied the clip into his chest.”_

It was deafening in the bedroom as you let the words you had never spoken out loud ring out and coat the empty spaces around you, never to be forgotten again. Dean hadn’t spoken, and you suddenly felt exhausted, reliving the darkest moment of your life. He still held you tight in his arms, but he was no longer comforting you, merely laying still as you pressed against his chest breathing him in. You couldn’t decide if you were worried for his reaction, or if you were relishing in the silence and warmth of his hold, but either way you were becoming anxious the longer he didn’t speak.

Dean cleared his throat lightly, and you chanced glancing up at him. He wasn’t looking directly at you, but seemed to be lost in a memory for the moment. You curled back into his chest, and he tightened his hold, before you heard his voice, gruff from not being used.

“When I was maybe, I don’t know, thirteen, fourteen, I killed my first vampire. She was young and dad decided I was old enough to go head to head with her because we were roughly the same size.” He huffed out a brief laugh. “Looking back it seems really messed up, but I was itching to get more into the hunt and this became the only way for me to prove it to my father.” He stopped, and it was your turn to try to comfort him, reaching up to run your fingers across his shoulders and you felt him relax a bit, letting out a deep breath he must have been holding.

“Anyway, I took out the vamp no problem, and remember dad clapping me on the back, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of the vamp’s head. She hadn’t even barred fangs, and honestly looked just like a normal teenage girl, but one that I had just beheaded.” You continued lightly massaging his shoulders as you took comfort in the rumble of his voice against your cheek. “The image haunted me for weeks and after I woke dad up one night screaming in my sleep he sat down with me and instead of giving me the ‘she’s a monster, get over it’ talk he said something that I think about often.” Dean seemed to be completely lost in thought, and though you weren’t sure why he was telling you this, you listened intently, like he had just done for you.

“He told me, ‘Dean, she was doing bad things. Yes, she was young, but sometimes people can’t come back from tasting a little bit of the darkness.’”

You stopped moving your hands and he pulled you softly away from his chest and you looked into bright green eyes that seemed to glow in the dark.

“Y/N.” He began, his tone growing serious. You shrunk back a little against his hold, afraid of what he was about to say. “Hey,” he softened, pulling you closer again so he could rub his hands up and down your arms. “Look at me.” You glanced back into his eyes as he continued speaking. “Some people can’t come back from the darkness.”

Dean made everything seem so easy, and for a second you believed him. Perhaps you really could stop drowning in the guilt of what you did. But you shook your head at him with finality breaking your eye contact. You could never be forgiven for taking another human’s life. And you had too many secrets to ever live life like a normal person. Way too many skeletons in the closet. In that moment you felt profound guilt and sadness at the direction of your life. Sure, you were now in the arms of the man you had been in love with since before you even knew what love was, but he didn’t know anything about your life now.

Dean saw the way you were reacting to his words. The way your mind was taking you from hope to guilt to sadness to absolute dread. He knew you thought you could hide from him, but he spent the better part of his childhood learning how to read the nerdy short girl who sometimes hung out with him at Bobby’s. And he could still read you like a book.

“Hey, stop avoiding me, and look at me.” He said it with the tone that didn’t leave room for argument and you glanced up slowly. “You did what you had to do to protect yourself. That’s what your dad, my dad, and Bobby always taught us. Remember, ‘shoot first and ask questions later.’“ He smiled at you softly and you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the memory pull at you.

When you found yourself alone with Dean on endless nights when you were younger, waiting for your dad’s to return, you used to come up with outrageous situations that you both could maybe find yourselves in and the other would respond simply with ‘shoot first. Ask questions later.’ It was stupid and bordering on morbid, but it always made you laugh, and Dean would stare at you until your fits of giggles stopped. In those moments, you always felt like maybe Dean felt for you just as much as you felt for him. But you were just his friend who he would hang out with at Bobby’s. Not girlfriend material. And you were taken from the boys young anyway, shattering any hope of what could have been. And Greg successfully shattered any hope of you being comfortable with another human being.

Dean saw it happening again. The way you went from joy to guilt to sadness to dread. It broke his heart to not know what was happening in your head. Whatever you were telling yourself to give you such a hopeless look. He wanted more than anything to take away your pain, but he had no idea where to even start.

You coughed lightly, pulling away from his arms. “Uh, can we just go to bed, Dean? I’m tired and,” you stopped glancing at his bedside clock, “it’s nearly 4:00am.” He nodded softly, and you turned away in the opposite direction, pulling the comforter up to your chin, though you weren’t even remotely tired. You were too stuck in your own head, imagining what could have been if you hadn’t been taken away all those years ago. You were never one for coulda woulda shoulda, but laying this close to Dean had you feeling all kinds of ways and it was hard not to want so much of what you couldn’t have. You had been laying silent for a few moments, when you felt Dean shift slightly.

“Hey,” he whispered, gauging if you were asleep. You turned your head back toward him, glancing into his eyes. “Uh,” he looked awkward and it made you smile. “Would it be okay, if I held you, Y/N? Just for tonight.” You were a bit shocked by his question, being that you had just been thinking about him, but you nodded, realizing quickly how much you wanted him close again. You turned back to your side away from him, and felt one arm snake under your head laying against the pillow, and the other crawl across your waist pulling you flush against him. He sighed contentedly, and you allowed yourself to breath normally, even though your body was trembling slightly and your breathing was a little erratic.

Being this close to him, it was impossible to hide the way your body was reacting, and you felt him pull away from you a bit, but you grabbed his arm and placed it on your hip again. This is what you wanted. It’s Dean. He would never hurt you. You told yourself over and over to calm you racing heart. Besides, Greg never cuddled with you.

“Are you sure you’re alright, baby?” Dean whispered, his breath tickling the hair by your ear, making your body tense up again. But you nodded placing your hand on his on your hip, and moving it further down your stomach. Dean let you guide his hand and when it landed in a comfortable place, you proceeded to run your fingers up and down his arm. A memory of Dean flashed across your eyes as you did this.

You were playing some racing game that you were horrible at and he knew it, so of course he wanted to place a bet. You were no punk, so you agreed, sitting up a bit straighter as the cars raced around the tracks for their practice run before you pressed the start button.

“If I win,” you started, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. “I get to ride in the front seat of the Impala the next time John takes us into town!” You didn’t really care about riding up front, but you knew it drove Dean insane to be in the back, and if you were up front you could play Dixie Chicks and Dean would have to shut up about it.

He sighed dramatically, but agreed. “Okay, then if I win…” He trailed off trying to look deep in thought, but you knew him better than that. He was embarrassed, and you got serious thinking ‘what could he possibly be embarrassed to ask for?’

“If I win, I want you to do that arm scratching thing you do when you’re nervous, to distract yourself… I love that.” You stared at him stupidly in response, but nodded anyway. You always thought he thought that was annoying when you’d be watching a horror movie and you’d grab his arm and move your fingers up and down the smooth skin as a distraction. You hated the feeling yourself, but he never stopped you, so you figured he was just humoring you.

Dean shrugged like it was no big deal and nodded back, looking toward the game, knowing he was going to win, and smiling to himself.

You kept moving up and down his arm and Dean sighed into your hair. “I love this.” He whispered softly, almost as if he didn’t mean to. You smiled nodding that you knew. Dean leaned his head down to rest on your shoulder and he lightly kissed the open patch of skin on your collar bone, losing himself for a moment. You breathed out a little in surprise, and he felt you tense, moving his head back. “Sorry.” He whispered quickly, but you shook your head in response.

“I liked it…” You whispered back, moving your hand to entangle your fingers with his on your waist, and he pulled you closer gripping you to him. His head returned and he placed another chaste kiss against your neck making goosebumps appear across your skin. He nuzzled into your neck lightly and you giggled involuntarily, nervous suddenly and he placed another kiss against your collarbone before speaking.

“It broke my heart to let you leave…” He trailed off, lost in thought as you took in his words. “I begged my dad for months to take you back, but we couldn’t find you. It was like the system ate you up. I’m so sorry, baby. I should have saved you.” You shook your head at his last words, not wanting any of this to be his fault. Besides, after Greg, you didn’t want to be found. You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault and that you had disappeared for years after the shooting, but he released your hand suddenly, moving his hand back over your stomach. Your shirt had rode up a bit and you felt the pads of Dean’s fingers glide smoothly across your exposed skin. You had never been touched so gently, and though it brought up feelings you hadn’t felt in years, you knew Dean wasn’t pressuring you into anything, but rather comforting you and letting you know you are wanted. The thought made you choke up, and Dean held you close to him.

“Lets sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.” You nodded, and snuggled closer, relaxing as Dean’s fingers danced across your skin, and the sound of him humming “Let it Be” lightly into your ear soothed you into a dreamless sleep.

—————————

It was well after noon and you were still fast asleep. Dean had pulled away from you gently around 9:00am and was returning now to check on you. He pulled the door closed, leaving it open a crack so he could hear if you called for him, when Sam came up next to him.

“Hey,” He whispered. “How is she? How did last night go?”

Dean put a finger to his lips and motioned for his brother to follow him into the bathroom across the hall. He closed the door and sat down with a huff on the toilet seat, Sam perching on the side of the bathtub.

It took a few seconds for Dean to decide what he wanted to tell Sam, but his brother was ever patient waiting for Dean to say what he needed to.

“Some awful stuff happened to her when she was taken into foster care after her dad died, Sammy…” Sam nodded looking up at his brother, remembering how chaotic things were after the social worker barged into Bobby’s house and took you out screaming for Dean along the way. Dean refused to stop looking for you and it was almost a year later when he finally resigned to returning to hunt with his dad and taking care of Sam again.

Dean slammed his hand down loudly on the sink, and pulled it back quickly, straining to hear if he woke you. He didn’t hear anything so he turned back to Sam confessing what was weighing deep on his soul.

“I don’t know what to do.” He stated simply.

Sam narrowed his eyes in confusion. “What do you mean?” Dean looked up at him with sorrow in his eyes.

“I love her, Sammy.”


	5. Chapter 5

You opened your eyes slowly, panicking when you didn’t realize where you were. Your body went into fight or flight mode, but you breathed in deeply to calm yourself and smelt whiskey, leather, and vanilla. Dean, you thought to yourself smiling and letting out the breath you were holding, when the night returned to you all at once. Every word you confessed to Dean flashed through your memory, like a “previously on…” TV opener.

You told him everything...

Suddenly you felt sick and leaned over his bed afraid you might vomit. Your mind was going a million miles an hour, spiraling again thinking the complete worst. What did he think of you? He must be disgusted by what you did. Horrified and couldn’t wait for you to do the right thing and leave the brothers again.

Your thoughts were propelling you out of bed and into a standing position, swaying back and forth a little with the lack of oxygen to your brain. It was as if your thoughts were completely taking over and your body acted on autopilot. You were to your room with your one bag packed quickly, pulling on a sweatshirt over your shirt and sweat pants, not caring how you presented yourself at the moment. It was almost 1:00pm and you figured you could make it to at least Utah by the end of the day if you sped. The boys had plenty of random vehicles in the garage, they wouldn’t miss one, right?

You were still lost in your thoughts as you rushed down the hallway and into the war room, gripping the cold staircase railing when you heard shuffling behind you. You hadn’t noticed that Sam was sitting at the war room table shuffling through some papers that he quickly hid in a folder when you breezed past him.

“Y/N?” He questioned, taking in your packed bag and your hand on the railing. Your cursed to yourself under your breath, certain that you could have gotten away undetected had you been more clear-headed. Smarter. What kind of hunter were you even? You hadn’t meant it necessarily, but your irrational thoughts were working much faster than your brain was, and you answered your own rhetorical question with a resounding, I’m not one. You hadn’t been a hunter for a long time and it was undeniable the longer you attempted to face your past. And if you weren’t a hunter you were definitely useless to the Winchesters.

Sam had long ago risen to his feet waiting for any kind of motion from you, but he noticed you seemed to be muttering to yourself softly, and it worried him. After confessing to him in the bathroom, Dean had recounted Y/N’s story to his brother, leaving out some of the more private things they spoke about last night. But Sam got the gist of the conversation, and being a researcher first and foremost, was up early printing out pages on trauma survivors, hoping something would help. One of the first articles he was skimming when you rushed in reminded the reader that survivors would try to return to the safety of what they considered “normal,” especially after confiding in a loved one about their trauma. The bag and Y/N’s tense shoulders made sense. She was running from what happened last night and Sam didn’t blame her. It was hard enough keeping Dean relatively calm this morning and convincing him to not run away from what he was feeling. He only hoped you were able to accept Dean and his help.

“Y/N…” Sam repeated, wipeing his palms on his jeans lightly, full of nervous energy. He wasn’t scared of what you might say or do, but he was scared of messing up and pushing you further away. He had to reel you back in a little so that you knew you didn’t have to run away.

You still weren’t looking at him, but stood stiffly on the stairs leading up to the bunker exit. It wouldn’t take more than 12 steps and you could be gone. Just move your feet! But they wouldn’t cooperate, and instead you were completely frozen.

“Y/N, listen.” Sam continued, staring at your back. “You don’t have to run. Dean and I,” you glanced back and saw him looking around for his brother and you wondered the same thing. Was Dean trying to escape you too?

“We’re here for you.” Sam finished, begging you with his eyes to back away from the steps and put your bag down. Ah, you thought to yourself. Dean told him. So both brothers knew your worst moment… Knowing this didn’t make you feel any better, and you felt your stomach tighten again, thinking of the younger Winchester when he was just a kid and how innocent he was. Eyes still full of life and so much energy. He would have hated you, your mind told you harshly. He probably hates you now.

You had to know. You had to see Sam’s face clearly right now and look into his eyes so you could see what he thought. If you felt he held any animosity toward you, you would leave. That was easy enough.

Willing your legs to move, you turned around slowly, bag still held tight in your hand. The corners of Sam’s mouth lifted up a bit when you finally met his eyes, which were a bright grey, almost white from far away. This color always reminded you of clouds and bright sunny days, and you knew instantly that Sam wasn’t angry with you. The thought took your breath away and you launched yourself forward into Sam’s open arms, gripping the back of his shirt tightly, like he was the only thing keeping you afloat. Knowing he wasn’t angry had you feeling every emotion you were trying to repress since you stood up from Dean’s bed. Before you knew it, loud sobs were racking your body and you were attempting to speak at the same time, trying to relay all of your thoughts to Sam.

“I thought you’d hate me, Sam,” you hiccuped out, voice muffled from his flannel. “I killed someone. I can’t ever take that back, and I thought that I would see nothing but hate and anger in your eyes when I finally saw you.” You didn’t slow down, shaking as Sam rubbed both hands up and down your back holding you close while you cried. “Please don’t hate me. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I just couldn’t bear to feel the way I had felt for so long.” You tensed a little, confessing to Sam what was really weighing on your chest making it hard to breath. You didn’t want to hurt Greg, but you didn’t want to be hurt anymore either.

“Shhh.” Sam shushed you quietly, trying to get you to calm down a little so that he could speak. You hiccuped a few more times, eyes red and raw from crying so hard. When your breathing was less jumpy, Sam raised your chin a little so that you were looking into his grey eyes again. “Listen.” He attempted to use Dean’s tone, trying to make you listen intently, and it made you giggle quietly, as he failed to capture the way Dean made people listen. But you continued looking into his eyes, so he knew you were listening.

“The situation you were in… I couldn’t imagine. And I could never judge you for reacting in the way you did. You didn’t have a choice, and I could never be angry with you for protecting yourself at a time when we all should have been protecting you.” Sam hid his eyes from you quickly. Damn these selfless Winchesters, you thought to yourself huffing out a sigh. They would always blame themselves for things completely out of their control. Sam looked into your eyes again and they were a light blue, and you read guilt on his face.

You shook your head in response. “You don’t get to do that Sam. There is nothing you could have done.” Your tone was final, and looking more and more like the little boy that you remember, Sam nodded his head obediently. You nodded back, glad that was decided.

There was a cough from the doorway, and you both spun around laying eyes on a grinning Dean. He must have listened silently to much of your guy’s conversation, and Sam shuffled awkwardly next to you. But you took in the older Winchester, wearing a simple black shirt and the old jean flannel that you loved, staring right back at you, arms crossed leaning against the door frame.

“I’m glad you two got a chance to talk.” He finally spoke out, his voice level and comforting. Sam nudged you gently, and you smirked at him. You saw the smile on Dean’s face fade away when he saw the bag you had dropped by the staircase when you rushed to hug Sam. His younger brother traced his gaze, and cleared his throat, muttering something about more research, rushing out of the room.

Dean turned his gaze to you again questioning. You wouldn’t look directly at him, so he approached you slowly, cautious like his brother had been. You crossed your arms across your chest protectively when he came close to you, and he placed his hands near your elbows, simultaneously grounding you and making you want to run far away from the way he made you feel.

“Baby,” He whispered gently, tone different in the light of the day. “Why would you leave?” You shrugged still refusing to look at him, but he wouldn’t take that as an answer. His eyes narrowed in warning, and you sighed, suprisingly feeling newfound courage after last night.

“I knew you two would hate me after what I told you. I didn’t want to see it on your faces. Especially not yours…” Dean continued to stare at you, and you finally made eye contact, his eyes darkening in a way that was unreadable to you. He opened his mouth a couple times, snapping it closed immediately after, unsure of how to begin this conversation.

“Why would we ever hate you, Y/N?” Though you knew deep down that everything you were thinking and feeling today was irrational, you still scoffed at the question, pulling away from his reach. His hands stayed in the same position they had been resting on your arms, but he snapped them down to his sides after a beat, looking exhausted again. You hated seeing him this way, and you wanted to smooth down the creases that were appearing under his eyes and between his brow. Though you were the one that stepped away, your body urged you back toward him, and you stepped forward, wanting to be near him again. He kept looking at you with the same questioning look, and you couldn’t stand it anymore. The lies and the secrets that continued to weight on your chest. You haven’t breathed normally since you were a silly teenager tailing after Dean Winchester. Perhaps he was the one person who could take you back to that moment. Help you breath normally again.

“I killed someone, Dean.” You spoke quietly, but with conviction, suddenly wanting Dean to know all of you. “And then I just disappeared. Left everything and everyone behind, and started a new life. I was scared, and hurt, and I never, after all these years, dealt with what I did.” You were so close to Dean you could smell the faint smell of his cologne, but he didn’t attempt to hold you in place again. You didn’t know where this conversation was taking you, but you wanted him to understand what was happening in your mind.

“When I ran, all I wanted to do was find you and Sam. I missed you so much.” You felt tears spring to your eyes, and though you didn’t really want to cry in front of Dean, you were trying hard to allow yourself to simply feel your emotions after all of these years. You knew it wasn’t going to happen instantly, but you were attempting to heal yourself. Finally. “All I wanted was you…” You breathed out your final thought, looking directly into Dean’s eyes, which held emotion, but you couldn’t tell which.

“But all I kept thinking was how much you and Sam would hate me for what I did. I mean it was like the first thing John and my dad taught us, ‘saving people, and hunting things.’ Greg wasn’t a monster. He was a person.” Dean finally lifted one of his hands and ran it comfortingly up and down your arm.

“Baby, he was hurting—“ but you cut him off, trying to control the volume of your voice.

“And I didn’t have to kill him!” Tears were rushing down your cheeks now as you thought of Greg’s body lying lifeless in front of you, blank eyes staring up at the ceiling. No matter how much you tried to heal, you couldn’t get that image out of your head.

“And you were only 13, Y/N.” Dean argued back, returning his arms to your shoulders, anchoring you in place. “And you had been taught to arm and protect yourself when there was danger. You are and have always been a hunter.” He let his words hang in the air as you continued to cry, big tears sliding down your face and dripping onto your sweatshirt. You had your arms wrapped tightly around yourself again, protecting yourself from both your emotions and Dean, no matter how irrational it was.

“Come here,” Dean muttered, pulling you close to him, though you didn’t unwrap your arms. He held you tightly as you silently cried, tired of dealing with your emotions for the moment. You realized Dean never answered the question that was bouncing around in your mind.

“Do you hate me, Dean?” You whispered into his chest. You weren’t even sure he heard you, but you felt him take a deep breath preparing himself to say something. Dean waited a beat, enjoying having you close to him before he decided to pull you away and speak what was on his heart.

“Baby, I am so ridiculously in love with you, there is not an inch of room for hate, or judgement, or any of the other fears you have of how I would react to what you told me last night.” Dean didn’t speak fast, making sure each of his words were leveled and that you heard them. And you had, staring at him open mouthed, barely believing the words that were tumbling from his mouth. Even though you heard him loud and clear you asked him to repeat it.

“What did you just say?” He gave you a gentle exasperated look and huffed out a sigh.

“I’m in love with you. I have been since before I even realized what the feeling of love was.” You continued to stare and he rewarded you with a full smile, clearly relieved to confess this to you. He lifted his hand slowly to cup your cheek and wipe away at the tears drying on them. You didn’t know what to say to him, but he didn’t seem to care, only continuing to smile at you.

“You know, I used to skip out on hunts constantly when I knew that you would be hanging out at Bobby’s. I didn’t want you to be alone, but I wanted to be around you more than I wanted to go after monsters. I would’ve chosen ‘hide & seek’ over hunting every time if I could’ve…” He trailed off lost in thinking about the woulda, coulda, shouldas, and the life we could have had.

“You skipped out on hunts?” You questioned, your voice quiet and a little gruff from crying. He nodded looking down at your sheepishly. “You told me John wouldn’t let you go on certain hunts after certain monsters. I figured it was just too dangerous.” Your voice sounded a bit accusatory, and you didn’t mean it that way, but your mind was racing thinking about all the small things Dean did when you were younger that might have been him telling you he loved you.

“Yeah…” Dean ran his hand through his short hair nervously.

“I didn’t want you to know I was choosing to not go. I still wanted you to think I was a badass hunter, but I wanted to spend time with you more.” He looked so cute confessing to you, and you finally smiled thinking about all of the time you had together, getting to know each other, because Dean chose to allow for it. You were so grateful to him in that moment for giving you some of the happiest days of your life.

His hand was still cupping your cheek, and you glanced up at him giving him a real smile, probably the most real smile you’ve used in a long time. Dean noticed and awarded you with one of his own before turning a bit serious.

“Y/N…” He started, looking determined, but nervous, and maybe a little scared. “Can I kiss you?”

You smiled at his question and nodded your head, staring up into forest green eyes.

Dean leaned slowly forward, cupping your cheek with his other hand as well, and placed his lips lightly to yours. You closed your eyes and breathed him in, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours. The rest of Dean was rough and course from years of working, but his lips were ridiculously soft, and you leaned into him deepening the kiss. You felt the rumble of a light groan in Dean’s chest as you pressed against him harder. His hands moved to your waist and yours rested across his shoulders. You felt his tongue dart out against your lips, asking for permission, and you opened your mouth slowly, letting his tongue explore.

You were lost in the kiss when you heard a cough from the doorway. Dean reluctantly broke away turning toward his brother with an annoyed look on his face. You swiped at your lips quickly, trying to compose yourself. Sam looked guilty, but also a little scared and you grabbed onto Dean’s arm to ground yourself.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt.” Sam started with a grimace. “I just got a call from Bobby… Apparently someone was just at his house.”

Dean scoffed next to you and you gripped his arm a bit harder, figuring this had to be going somewhere. “So?” Dean grunted out, anxious for his brother to get to the point.

Sam didn’t waiver under his brother’s annoyance, but rather got more serious.

“Dean… he said someone was looking for Y/N.”


	6. Chapter 6

Sam’s words were echoing in your head. Someone was looking for you? At Bobby’s? Who would even know about that part of your life? 

You were frozen to your place, hands gripping Dean’s arm like a scared child. Dean was staring daggers at Sam, who wasn’t backing down. 

“Bobby didn’t specify,” Sam continued, meeting his brother’s gaze. “He said we should just come there. All of us.” He looked directly at you as he finished and you nodded, moving away from Dean. But Dean grabbed your arm, and for maybe the first time since you were 13, you didn’t flinch at someone else’s touch. 

“No.” Dean said with finality. “Absolutely not.” You stared up at him not understanding. He met your stare and lowered his voice, trying to keep his anger in check. “I’ll go, but I want you to stay here.” You shook your head in response, trying to move away from his intense gaze. But he stood his ground. 

“You’re not coming, Y/N.” He repeated, trying to end the conversation. But you refused. 

“Yes, I am, Dean.” You responded, moving away from his grasp and standing your ground.

Dean sighed loudly and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Y/N…” 

“I have to know, Dean!” You shouted, making Sam and him jump lightly from your outburst. You reigned in your emotions and repeated. “I have to know.” Dean had perfected the ‘no nonsense’ tone, but you knew he wasn’t going to argue. You didn’t need to tell him that you had invited him into this situation. Your eyes did the talking for you. He nodded once, and stomped down the hall to pack. Sam left his place in the doorway and came over, squeezing your arm once. “We’ll be there the entire time, Y/N. You don’t have to worry.” You nodded giving him a weak smile as he walked away to follow his brother. 

You stood there for a few moments, deciding to wait for the brothers at the Impala. The sooner you left, the sooner you could be at Bobby’s. 

————————

Dean had been silent the entire ride and you could tell he was upset with you. Sam asked you a few questions, trying to figure out who this mystery guest could be, and you saw Dean tense any time you brought up a person from your past. There weren’t a lot, but enough people who you figured could theoretically be looking for you. As you leaned against the Impala’s leather seat you considered who this person might be. It could be entirely innocent, an old foster parent looking to catch up. But you never told anyone about your life at Bobby’s. The other possibility scared you more. Would the Wilson’s really come looking for you? After all of these years…

You didn’t want to think about what you were heading toward anymore, so you thought back to Dean’s kiss. You felt your hands touch your lips subconsciously, remembering how soft Dean’s felt. And how right. You smiled to yourself, but when you looked at Dean all you saw was anger, confusion, and concern. He was gripping the steering wheel with both hands, his knuckles turning white. Sam was distracted by whatever he was reading on his phone, his dark hair hiding his face. You didn’t want to startle Dean, afraid he might crash with his entire focus on the windshield in front of him, but you didn’t want him to sit and brood to himself with his anger. Leaning forward in your seat, you reach across the bench seat and placed a hand on Dean’s arm. He flinched lightly, your touch jerking him out of his thoughts, but he seemed to relax a bit under your hold. His hands relaxed on the wheel, and he released his left to hang down between the front bench seat and the door. You reached your own hand towards his and felt him entwine your fingers together tightly. You held hands the whole rest of the drive. 

———————

‘Singer Auto Salvage’ looked exactly the same from what you remember and you felt comfortable for the first time in a long time. Like you were home.

Dean was still holding your hand tight, and he squeezed it a few times when he felt you sit up straighter to see out the window. Though you were here for business, you couldn’t wait to see Bobby. He truly became your father after your dad died, even if only briefly, but he had essentially raised you. Though your dad taught you the way of the hunt, Bobby reminded you that it was still okay to have fun, to be a kid. To relax. When you, Sam, and Dean were stuck there for weeks at a time, Bobby would take you all into town to the local playground, or the overgrown baseball diamond. Stuff, he reminded you guys time and time again, that kids did. Dean grumbled whenever Bobby stuffed you all into the car, but you saw his eyes light up whenever you reached whatever fun destination you were heading toward. 

You glanced up at Sam who was mirroring your posture, taking it all in. You never asked Sam, but you had a sneaking suspicion that Bobby was to blame for Sam’s short stint in college. Staring at the adult Sam, all you saw was the little kid, whose nose was buried in one of the books Bobby lent him that were way too old for him. The thought made you smile. 

As Dean drove down the driveway flanked with busted cars, the house came slowly into view. You loved the big blue house, and between holding on tight to Dean’s hand and finally being back at your childhood home, you started breathing normal for the first time in years. 

You smiled widely seeing the stout man standing out front, dirty ball cap and all. Before Dean could even park the Impala, you were rushing out of the car toward the anxiously waiting man. 

Bobby opened his arms a bit hesitantly, and you threw yourself into the hug, openly crying. 

“Y/N.” Bobby grunted out, holding you tight. He smelled like motor oil and home and you never wanted to be away from this place again. You heard Dean and Sam approach, and you reluctantly pulled back, swiping at your tears, and letting Bobbly hug both boys quickly, knowing they hadn’t seen him in awhile as well. You could see the old man’s small smile hidden under his bushy mustache and it made you want to hug him again. 

“Come on, come on,” Bobby said quickly, jumping into mother hen mode and ushering you and the boys quickly into his home. The house looked exactly the same and you paused in the doorway to taking in the small entry way and living room, where you remembered spending much of your time. Though the house was old, it never had that musty smell to it, and you relished in the scent of old books and whiskey. Sam and Bobby walked through the house toward the kitchen, but Dean stopped looking back at you with a smile. He approached, grabbing your hand lightly. 

“Come on, baby.” You knew he was still anxious and upset that you had come along, but the smile on your face clearly eased any of the tension pulling at his shoulders. You followed the hunter through the rest of the house, ready to reminisce about your childhood after you figured out the issue at hand. Bobby was sat at the small table in the middle of the room, nursing a beer, and Sam was leaning against the sink beer in hand. Dean opened the fridge and handed you a cold bottle as well. You sat across from Bobby smiling as he stared at you. 

“It’s so good to see you, girl…” He muttered, trying to hide the smile that lit up his face. You smiled in return, and reached across the table to grab his hand, squeezing it once. 

Bobby coughed awkwardly before diving into the business at hand. “I’m sorry to bring you all the way out here, but I figured you should know and see what we were up against here.” Bobby and the boys were staring at you as Bobby spoke and you knew it was a protective move, but it made you nervous, all attention on you. You took in Bobby’s words, part of what he said ringing in your head. 

“Wait, see what we are up against? What do you mean Bobby?” You questioned the man in front of you, and instead of answering your question he asked one of his own. 

“Y/N, did you ever hunt a shapeshifter?” 

You narrowed your eyes in confusion. You had hunted on your own for awhile, but only the cases that came across your desk that screamed supernatural. Mostly bodies drained of blood or missing organs. 

You shook your head at him. “No, never.” Bobby nodded in return, and Dean was losing his patience. You heard him place his beer bottle on the counter behind him, and step forward. 

“What are we looking at here, Bobby?” You saw Bobby give Dean the annoyed look only a father could give, but he stood up, motioning for you all to follow him to the study. 

“The guy that came sniffing around here seemed normal enough, but when I checked out the yard’s security footage, something caught my eye.” 

Dean walked up behind Bobby to check out the open laptop, and nodded. “Eye flair” He stated to Sam, who walked up as well. You stayed behind in the doorway, letting the skilled hunters do their work. 

“Y/N,” Sam said turning toward you. “Do you recognize this guy?” 

You moved toward the laptop, peering over the side at the frozen image on the screen. You took in the lens flair, and froze, something about the man’s face pulling at your memory. Suddenly it clicked into place and you screamed falling backward on the floor, scooting on your butt until your back hit the wall behind you with a thud. Sam and Bobby looked shocked, but Dean was on his knees instantly, crawling toward you and grabbing at your hands that were clawing at your eyes. 

“Baby!” Dean said loud trying to grab your attention, not caring if Sam and Bobby heard his private nickname for you. 

“It’s him!” You screamed, eyes clenched shut, but the only thing you saw was his crooked wolf smile. “It’s him, Dean. It’s him.” You repeated over and over again, tears streaming down your face. You didn’t need to say his name out loud for Dean to understand, he could see it in your eyes. But you whispered it anyway, feeling how sour it tasted on your tongue. 

“It’s Greg.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m getting a little lost in my own timeline, so apologies for any inaccuracies… All mistakes I claim as my own.

You could feel Dean crouched in front of you, and could see his lips moving as he spoke, but everything was moving in slow motion and the words weren’t reaching your ears. Standing quickly, Dean didn’t have time to reach for you as you excited the house as fast as you could. You needed air. 

Dean stood again, wearing the same shocked look as Sam and Bobby. But he didn’t follow you, giving you space for a moment. 

“Did she just say that was Greg?” Sam asked quietly, moving to stand next to his brother. You had just exited the house, the screen door slamming shut behind you. “The same Greg she emptied a gun into almost fifteen years ago?” 

“Yeah,” Dean grunted out, weighing his options. He knew you were upset with him for his outburst back at the bunker and he didn’t want to push you away further, so instead he turned toward Bobby trying to figure out their next move. 

“One of you boys gonna fill me in on what all that was?” Sam scrubbed a hand down his face, knowing this wasn’t his or Dean’s story to tell, but he definitely was not about to dive into the specifics of Y/N’s life in foster care. Especially not when Bobby was glaring at both him and Dean like he was. Like a protective father.

Dean cleared his throat loudly, before speaking. “Something bad happened to her, Bobby, when she was in foster care…” Dean trailed off, measuring his words. “And the guy that did it is supposed to be dead. I guess he isn’t as human as she initially thought…” He trailed off again, glancing toward the front of the house. He squeezed Sam’s arm once, knowing he would speak more with Bobby, before heading outside with a quick, “she shouldn’t be alone.” The two men nodded in agreement and Dean headed toward the front door, intent on keeping you close to him from here on out. 

———–

You weren’t planning on going anywhere after rushing out of the house. You just needed some quick air, and plopped yourself down on the hood of the Impala once you were out the door. Dean would be pissed that you were scuffing up baby’s hood, but you didn’t care at the moment, and he’d forgive you. 

You laid back against the cool hood, losing yourself in your thoughts. How could he possibly be alive? And why come after you now? 

You didn’t want to think too far into the situation, afraid you would have to live through those long nights shaking in your bed again, so you tried your best to separate that life from the one you were trying to lead now, the biggest different of course being Dean. It didn’t seem to be a huge coincidence that the darkest moments of your life were when you were miles away from Dean and Sam Winchester. The thought made you smile to yourself despite what was going on. 

You were so caught in your own head that you didn’t feel the hand grasp tightly around your ankle and drag you from the Impala’s smooth hood, slamming your head on the bumper on the way down, making your world go black. 

———–

“Y/N, listen,” Dean started walking across the patio toward the Impala figuring you would be close by. He glanced around quickly when he didn’t see you leaning up against the car’s smooth hood like he expected. 

“Y/N” He called loudly, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. Maybe you had walked down the aisle of cars. You couldn’t have gone too far, he thought to himself, it had only been minutes since you walked through the front door. 

Dean walked swiftly down the first row of immovable cars, turning the corner to glance down the next, and the next, and the next, not seeing any sign of you. 

“Y/N!” Dean shouted again, running down the last few rows and back up toward the house, beginning to panic. 

Sam and Bobby heard his last shout and were clamoring out the door toward him, fear written across their faces. 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked anxiously. Dean shook his head, running his fingers through his short hair in frustration. 

“She’s not out here!” He finally called out at the two men, who swiftly turned and rushed back into the office, preparing to pull up the security footage again. Dean followed, pacing the floor anxiously while Bobby slowly pulled up the salvage yard’s security tapes.

Sam was trying to calm his brother with constant mantra’s of ‘it’s gonna be okay’ and ‘we’ll find her,’ but Dean wasn’t having any of it, swiping Sam’s hand away when he placed it on his shoulder.

“Come on, Bobby, we don’t have all day!”

Bobby glared at Dean again, hard, reminding the older Winchester of his place. Dean shut his mouth but continued pacing, avoiding his brother’s gaze.

“Alright,” Bobby started, snapping Dean to attention. “it’s starting. Looks like Y/N was just sitting on the hood of the Impala after she walked out.” Dean rushed to Bobby’s side and glanced down at the security footage, hiding a small smile when he saw you sprawled out on the hood, exactly like he knew you would be. He kept watching when suddenly the footage went all garbled and they couldn’t make any sense of what was happening. The tape fixed itself and Y/N was gone, the Impala’s hood barren.

“Dammit!” Dean roared, knowing that Greg must have messed with the security tapes. Bobby slammed the laptop closed, muttering to himself, while Sam went back to mother-hening Dean.

“Sam!” Dean shouted, warning his brother. “Get. away. from me.” Sam huffed out a sigh in response, knowing nothing was going to get through to his brother until Y/N was back by his side safe. The three men did nothing for a few seconds but stare blankly around the room, desperate for any answer to appear out of thin air. Dean startled them all when he screamed out, “where is she!?”

————-

When you woke you, the lingering smell of rain and dead bodies hit you like a freight train, and you decided to try to trigger your hunter senses before you opened your eyes and gave away your present status. You hadn’t hunted in over a year, promising Sam and Dean that you were more comfortable with research, when in reality you didn’t trust your own abilities anymore. You didn’t trust yourself with many things lately.

You started your investigation with your own body. You didn’t feel drugged or anything, just tired from the fall, and your back ached a little. Attempting to move your arms you realized they were chained above your head and you were on your knees, jeans soaking up the horrible smelling water beneath you. Wincing you decided to open your eyes, hoping that whoever this was wasn’t around at the present moment. You weren’t delusional enough to think that this could be anything other than Greg, but you hoped that perhaps some sort of monster followed you and the Winchesters to Bobby’s. But your hoping was in vain, as you slowly opened your eyes and came face to face with a larger and older version of the kid who ruined your life. 

When he saw you open your eyes and look into his, he offered you his wolf grin, before you avoided his gaze quickly. 

“Y/N.” His tone was even and you could tell he was still smiling. Though his voice had dropped an octave or so, it sent a chill through your body. You weren’t the most skilled hunter, but in your current predicament, even the newest hunters would be jumping into some kind of game plan and playing off of their adrenaline and anger. You felt yourself shrinking into yourself, hoping you could simply disappear. As always, Greg never sensed any discomfort from you, and continued talking like nothing was wrong. 

“It’s so good to see you!” He didn’t touch you, but the way he was coming toward you had you cowering back into the corner as far away from him as the chains would allow. 

He clicked his tongue at your movement, “Ah. I see.” You glanced up at him as he spoke, following his movements. He knelt down in front of you, and you couldn’t lower your head any further to get away from him. “I’m not mad, Y/N.” He said simply, using a gentle tone, one that you recognized. Long ago you stopped falling for the gentleness knowing that what was to follow wasn’t going to be nice and gentle. 

He stood suddenly making you jump, walking slowly around the room as he thought. “I know you did what you needed to do, and I’m not mad… I just wish you would have stuck around a bit for the real fun.” The wolf smile was back and you shuddered, imagining his bloody body rising before your eyes after you thought you had killed him.

He was turned toward you, and clicked his tongue again when you refused to look at him. Kneeling down he snaked a finger toward you, smiling when he reached your chin and was able to tilt your head back so that you were forced to look into his eyes. 

“It’s okay, hunny…” You shuddered when he used the nickname he used to use for you, often referring to you as his little ‘hunny-bear.’ The foster agency and your foster parents thought it was so cute.

“We have plenty of time for you to make it up to me.” 

Quickly the single finger under your chin, became his entire hand gripping the back of your neck, and he pulled your forward, the chains attached to your arms clinking behind you. He held you steady in front of him, while he roughly pushed his lips to yours. You kept your face stoic, refusing to react to his assault of your lips, and you felt a growl building deep in his chest. When your lips didn’t react against his, he pressed his hand against your cheek, pressing down on the sensitive skin and forcing your mouth to open. He took your bottom lip between his teeth biting hard enough to draw blood. You tasted the salt on your tongue, wincing as the blood seeped into your mouth. 

Greg pulled back, releasing your face, his wolf smile revealing dark crimson teeth, your own blood staining his lips. He stood to his full height and raked his eyes up and down your body. 

“Oh hunny-bear, you have definitely filled out. Damn!” You flinched at the volume of his words, but he ignored you. “You turned into quite a looker.” He tsked his tongue continuing to look you up and down. “But why do you hide behind all of these baggy clothes!?” He suddenly sounded angry, and you realized you were wearing one of Dean’s flannels, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and buttoned all the way to the top. 

“That definitely won’t do.” He spit out, walking toward you again, and beginning to undo the buttons, slowly, as if he were trying to ‘set the mood.’ As each button brought him closer to your chest and stomach, you felt your abs clenching, feeling like you might vomit on him at any moment. 

Once he finished the buttons, you heard him wolf-whistle realizing you were only wearing a plain black bralette underneath the heavy material, the lace and fabric not leaving much to the imagination. You felt tears sting your eyes, imagining happier times on your way to South Dakota when you simply threw on one of Dean’s flannels to be more comfortable on the drive, while the boys were inside at the gas station. The fabric was soft and long and smelled like Dean, so you didn’t bother putting anything under it. You never imagined you’d be in this situation. 

Greg continued to look you up and down and you let the tears fall freely. Someone please save me! 

———-

The Winchesters and Bobby had been sitting at their individual laptops looking for any clues of where you might be. They figured the shifter was probably moving on foot, so he couldn’t have gone too far in the time that Y/N went outside and they tore apart the salvage yard looking for you. Dean jumped into the Impala after the security footage turned out to be a bust, and drove damn near across South Dakota looking for any sign of you. 

Sam sighed loudly, taking a huge drink from the crappy gas station coffee, Dean grabbed before heading back to the house, knowing they needed be alert.

“Dean, I think it’s time you called Cas…” Dean nodded once. It had been almost 6 hours since you were taken and every minute that passed had Dean screaming on the inside, desperate to find you. 

Taking a deep breath, he put his hands together in prayer, muttering for Castiel, angel of the Lord, to get his feathery ass down here. That they needed him. Throwing in a ‘please’ for good measure. 

Dean opened his eyes when he heard the rustling that could only be the blue-eyed, trenchcoat clad Angel. 

“Hello, Dean.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter contains images of assault. Please be aware if this is trigging for you!

All you could hear was the constant dripping of the pipes above you, one splashing cold water on the back of your neck. Greg hadn’t left you alone after unbuttoning Dean’s flannel, and rather decided to strip you down and shackle your hands above your head again after. Then he walked out of the room, leaving you shivering, still leaning on your naked and bruised knees, arms growing numb above you. 

You had to have been in the same position for over eight hours or so after you factored in how long you might have been passed out, and your body felt like it was ready to snap in half. You couldn’t lift your head anymore, though you wanted to move out of the dripping water, which felt like standing under a cold shower. But you couldn’t be too worried about it, because suddenly you felt an arm snake around your waist and lift you to your feet. You felt yourself fall into a slight feeling of hope, thinking that perhaps Dean had finally come for you. But your hopes were dashed when Greg whispered in your ear. 

“Okay, hunny-bear, time to make it up to me.” You whimpered slightly in response, and you felt Greg release his hold on your waist, your body crashing roughly to the floor, chains yanking your arms above your head again almost ripping your limbs from their sockets. You cried out with what energy you had left, tears slipping down your cheeks. 

“Oh dear. I’m sorry hunny, I didn’t realize you were this weak already…” He trailed off, pulling you to a standing position again. He spoke like he cared about you, but you heard the smile behind his voice, relishing in the fact that you couldn’t fight back right now. “I’ll make sure to be gentle,” he whispered in your ear again, making you shudder, tears continuing to fall down your face. 

Greg grabbed the back of your neck, bending you at the waist and holding you up on your own legs, rendering you completely powerless, afraid he would snap your neck if he felt like it. You felt fear course through your body as her rubbed his other hand slowly down your exposed back tracing a long scar down your side that you got from a vampire hunt, ending at your hip bone. You hated the way he seemed to be caring for you, his movements slow and careful, and your mind quickly drifted to Dean. Shaking your head, you dislodged the hunter’s green eyes from your mind, knowing you would need to repress this memory later on and it would be impossible if Dean was anywhere near it. Greg felt you shaking your head, and he stilled his movements, turning to stand in front of you instead, hand still at your neck. 

“What’s wrong, hunny?” He lifted your head so that you were forced to look into his eyes, and he smiled knowingly. “Oh, I get it. You’ve moved on.” He gave you a small pout and you avoided his gaze. “It’s okay, I want this to be good for you. And honestly, it doesn’t matter what body I’m in anyway. It feels amazing either way.” You whipped your head around, suddenly staring into bright green eyes. Gasping loudly, you were suddenly pulled forward toward the lips of Dean Winchester. You froze, but felt yourself kissing him back slightly, your brain playing tricks on you. Dean pulled away and smiled at you widely, and you smiled back until he opened his mouth. 

“That’s right, hunny-bear. Now we can both be comfortable.” ‘Dean’ disappeared from your view and you felt a small bout of strength, your body fighting against the chains holding you in place, trying to escape from the nightmare your brain couldn’t even imagine up. But Greg’s hands held you tight to him, and you felt his hips move against you. You were prepared to accept this happening to you at the hands of Greg, but you couldn’t get the image of Dean standing before you in the damp room out of your head. And though you kept repeating to yourself that it wasn’t Dean, it was becoming impossible as Greg continued to speak, Dean’s gruff voice floating up to you. 

“Alright hunny,” he cooed, stroking up and down your back as you heard the zipper of his jeans. “Are you ready for me?” 

You didn’t respond, your mind shutting down like it had so many times before to help you survive this moment. You felt some pressure to your core, and then your body was moving back and forth, but you felt numb, and didn’t say a word. You weren’t sure how long Greg used you, but when he was done, he pulled out, zipped back up, and came to stand in front of you. Dean’s body came into view, and he looked concerned, as he swiped at the tears you didn’t realize were streaming down your face, cupping your cheek. You involuntarily leaned into it, and when you looked up again, Greg was staring into your eyes. You leaned out of his grasp, and he sighed, pulling you forward to kiss you on the top of the head. 

“I have something I have to do hunny-bear. I’ll be back soon.” And just like that he was gone, leaving you hanging from the chains, bent at the waist. 

You started to sob silently, knowing that Greg didn’t destroy you 13 years ago. He destroyed you now, using the only man you felt comfortable with against you. Being a hunter you didn’t believe in anything you couldn’t see, so you often refused to believe in God, but in that moment you felt yourself praying, reaching out to anything or anyone to help you. 

You suddenly heard the rush of wind and the flutter of wings, as a figure appeared in front of you. Too tired to react you attempted to move away from whoever had appeared in the room, when you felt a soft hand on your cheek, causing a warmth to spread throughout your body. 

“Hello, Y/N.” The figure began and you looked up into bright blue eyes. “I heard your prayer. My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord.” You stared up at the man in disbelief before your world went black. 

———–

Cas disappeared as quickly as he appeared and Dean spun around looking for him in the small room. 

“Cas!” He yelled into the emptiness, but the angel didn’t reappear. Dean scoffed, returning to find Sam and Bobby in the living room. Sam rose to his feet when Dean entered, looking questioningly behind him, anticipating Cas following Dean. Dean shook his head, throwing his hands up the air, when he heard the flutter of wings behind him again. The look on Sam’s face made Dean whip around nervously afraid of what he might find behind him. 

Cas was standing in the doorway to the office holding Y/N tightly in his arms. He had shed his trench coat and it was wrapped around an unmistakingly naked Y/N like a towel. 

“Hello Dean,” Cas repeated for the second time in 20 minutes, and Dean rushed forward taking Y/N out of Cas’ arms and cradling you tightly to his chest. You looked as if you were sleeping, but your face looked like you were in pain, stuck in whatever nightmare you were being forced into. Bobby and Sam rushed over to where Dean stood holding you, both men looking murderous. 

“Cas, what happened?!” Sam was yelling, unable to control his emotions, and Castiel stood awkwardly, not having the people skills to deal with human emotions this complex. He took a beat or two to answer, but Dean cut him off, not ready to hear the story while you were still in the room.

Dean shifted you slightly in his arms and your face relaxed as he hiked you up, your head resting in the crook of his neck. He didn’t want to leave you alone right now, but he wanted you to be more comfortable as you slept, and didn’t want you to be naked anymore. He motioned with his head for his brother to follow him upstairs. Sam followed, and as they reached the stairs Dean spoke over his shoulder. 

“Cas, stick around.” Cas nodded once, and Bobby motioned for him to sit on the couch him and Sam had just vacated. Cas sat awkwardly fixing his stare on the wall ahead of him, as Bobby left the room. 

Dean walked toward Bobby’s room upstairs knowing you would feel most comfortable there if you woke up while they were downstairs talking to Cas. Sam opened the door for him, and stood in the doorway as you placed Y/N down on the soft blankets. 

“Sam,” Dean spoke up, making sure you were fully covered with Cas’ trench coat for the moment after you were jostled about a bit. “Can you find Y/N’s bag and get maybe some sleep shorts, or something we can get on her easily?” Sam nodded, disappearing from the room. You took a second to take in Y/N’s appearance, not seeing any signs that you had been hurt, but you figured you’d learn the extent of the injuries from Cas, as Dean was sure he healed you before bringing you here. He knew Cas wouldn’t without permission, but he also secretly hoped that Cas had scrubbed your memories of whatever had happened in the hours that you were missing. 

Sam returned while he was lost in his thoughts, clearing his throat simply. Dean turned around and Sam handed him a pair of Y/N’s loose shorts and one of Sam’s flannels, figuring it would work best to cover her. 

“Can you help me?” Dean asked his brother awkwardly, not wanting to betray Y/N’s trust, especially not when you were sleeping. Sam nodded coming forward while Dean placed each of your feet carefully in the leg holds of the shorts. You were still in a deep sleep, your chest rising and falling slowly, so Dean pulled the shorts up your legs, careful to not touch you, and both brothers looked away while Dean slid your shorts up over your hips and Sam moved the bottom of the trench coat out of the way. They repeated the same process to move Sam’s flannel over your head and slip your hands into the sleeves. Sam grabbed Cas’ trench coat off the bed and left the room, nodding once at Dean with pain in his eyes. 

Dean couldn’t stop looking at you, relishing in how peaceful you looked now that you were curled up in the blankets with familiar smells all around. He felt a tear slip down over his cheeks, and he swiped at it angrily, muttering to himself that he didn’t deserve to cry right now. Leaning forward he pressed his lips softly to your head and you stirred lightly, letting out a dreamy sigh, and Dean stood intent on killing the monster that hurt you before you even woke up and bringing his head to you as a trophy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter contains mentions of assault. Please be aware if this is trigging for you!

Cas stood abruptly as Dean came down the stairs, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He was exhausted, but it wasn’t in him to even think about sleeping when a monster was still very much on the loose. Sam remained seated on the couch, his head resting in his hands, looking every bit as exhausted and distraught as Dean felt. From the living room, Dean could see Bobby sitting at his desk nursing a glass of amber liquid, sure to be whiskey of some kind. Dean wanted to stay level headed for the moment, but would no doubt fall asleep with a bottle of his own later. 

“Dean,” Cas nodded toward him, offering him his seat on the couch next to his brother, but Dean waved him off, choosing to stand, crossing his arms over his chest. Cas nodded curtly recognizing that Dean was waiting for him to tell the story. 

“While we were speaking, Dean, I heard a woman’s voice asking God to save her from her pain. As you know, I have never spoken with Y/N and I do not know her, but I felt that she was the woman you, Sam, and Bobby were looking for. And she was in profound pain. So I left without word. I do apologize for that, Dean.” Cas gave Dean his signature sorrowful eyes, head tilt thrown in, and Dean waved him off again, letting him know it was fine and that he should continue. Cas didn’t break eye contact with Dean, and though it unnerved him, he let the man continue to stare while he told the story. 

“When I arrived, I was in some sort of underground dungeon in western South Dakota. The building above was abandoned, but the dungeon was very much operational. I appeared directly in front of the woman who had prayed for me, who I realized had to be Y/N. I introduced myself as Castiel, angel of the Lord, and healed her—” 

Dean held up a hand to stop him abruptly, and Cas shut his mouth instantly. “What kind of wounds did she have, Cas?” Sam looked up at his brother questioningly, and Dean merely shook his head telling him silently to ‘leave it.’ Cas looked uncomfortable with the question, but answered anyway, knowing evading Dean was impossible, when he wanted answers. 

“She was chained up by the wrists, so I healed the burns and scrapes from the shackles. It appeared that she spent a few hours on her knees, so I healed the scrapes and swelling there…” Cas trailed off, hoping he wouldn’t have to continue, and glancing at the older Winchester. Though Dean looked distraught, he motioned for Cas to keep talking. Cas took in a huge breath of air before continuing. 

“She had a few internal injuries that seemed to have come from rough intercourse and I healed those wounds as well.” 

Sam stood to his feet, pacing around the living room with an angry look on his face. When Dean glanced into the office, he saw that Bobby was gone, having walked away when Cas finished his retelling. Sam continued to pace back and forth looking like he wanted to punch someone or something, and Cas looked ashamed and guilty for his side of the situation. Dean placed a hand on his shoulder, silently thanking him, and Cas nodded once in response. 

“Do you know where the monster went, Cas?” Sam asked finally, turning to face the two men, his eyebrows creased together in thought. Cas merely shook his head before speaking. 

“I wrapped Y/N in my coat and came instantly back here. I apologize, I should have investigated more, but it didn’t seem like any creature or human was present at the scene when I appeared.” Sam nodded, continuing to pace and Dean clapped Cas on the back again with a quick, “it’s not your fault.” Cas nodded again, when he suddenly became serious, a far-off look in his eye. 

“Y/N is waking up, Dean. I can feel her anxiety.” Dean nodded, leaving the two men and Bobby, wherever he was, to deal with the next steps, as he bounded up the stairs toward where Y/N was. 

———

When you woke, you realized you recognized the room, but you still felt fear and adrenaline course through your veins, realizing the last thing you remember was being shackled to the ceiling in Greg’s dungeon. You didn’t sit up, but began to sob remembering the day you just had, which felt like a lifetime ago. Though you didn’t feel any pain, the memories of the dungeon were etched permanently into your memory, and you gasped shooting into a sitting position when you remembered what Greg had done to you… What he made you think Dean did to you. Dean. 

As if you had actually called out for him, Dean appeared in the doorway, and you shrunk back some into the bed, your mind screaming at you to run. Dean seemed a bit shocked to see you sitting up in bed, and came toward you slowly. 

“Stop.” You said lowly, but Dean didn’t hear you, taking a few more steps toward you. 

“Stop!” You repeated loudly, hearing heavy footsteps bounding up the stairs in response to your yells. 

“Dean,” You repeated exasperated, needing to find some way to tell that it was really him, despite your body telling you to run far away from him. Sam, Cas, and Bobby appeared at the door, and you relaxed. 

“Can I talk to Sam? Alone.” You spit out, seeing the light go out behind Dean’s eyes. You felt horrible, but he would need to understand, and would fully understand soon, you just needed to talk to someone. Though Castiel would be a good candidate being that he found you, you were leery of the angel as well, especially now as he stared at you with those bright blue eyes. Dean nodded, turning on his heel and ushering the angel and whiskey drunk Bobby away from the door. 

Sam came fully into the room and closed the door behind him, before approaching the bed. Tears began to well in your eyes as you thought about telling Sam the truth of what happened to you, and you launched yourself into his arms, pulling yourself into his lap so you could bury your head into the crook of his shoulder and neck, breathing in the scent of home. Sam wrapped his arms tight around you and held you close to him, finally breathing after hours of worrying. 

In Sam’s firm hold, you let yourself fall apart. “What am I going to do, Sam?” You wailed, sobbing harder thinking about the look on Dean’s face when you essentially kicked him out of the room. You had to find a way to know that he was the real Dean. It should be him comforting you right now, you thought to yourself.

“Tell me what happened, Y/N.” Though it wasn’t a question, Sam’s voice was gentle and even. “Tell me what happened, and I’ll help.” 

You pulled away from him a bit, looking into dark blue eyes, gathering your strength from the younger hunter, who had been through so much in his life as well. 

“He posed as Dean, Sam… He took my worst fears and heightened them to something I could never even imagine.” Sam didn’t look shocked at your confession, but nodded his head, understanding where your confusion was coming from. 

You hiccuped a little controlling your tears for the moment. “Dean would never hurt me.” You stated more to yourself than anything, but you knew mantras and words would never ease the panic you felt deep in your veins when you saw Dean standing in the doorway. 

Sam nodded again understanding, digging in his front pocket. You looked at him questioningly before he spoke. 

“None of us would ever hurt you, Y/N. I know you know this in your soul, but I recognize not being able to convince your mind that Dean isn’t the shifter with what you’ve been through.” He looked at you seriously, and though you saw emotion, none of it was pity, and you thanked him silently with your eyes.

“You don’t have to take only my word, I can show you both your dad, my dad, and Bobby’s journals that confirm, but silver makes a shifters skin burn, much like holy water on a demon.” You looked deep into Sam’s eyes, knowing he would never lie to you, but wanting the confirmation anyway. Seeing that he had your attention, he held up a simple silver ring, looking away guiltily before continuing. 

“When we lost you, I was afraid something like this would happen. That the shifter would pose as someone close to you to hurt you, so I had Bobby find me a silver ring. Wear this, and if you are ever unsure if one of us is a shifter you can simply grab our arms and wait for the sizzle.” He smiled softy when you grabbed the ring and slipped it onto your right hand ring finger, feeling a weight lift off your body a bit, knowing you were that much safer with this on your body. 

“Thank you, Sam.” You responded simply, wrapping one arm around his neck, and the other grabbing his wrist lightly, testing the touch of the silver against his skin. He chuckled under your hold, and you both watched his arm for any sort of reaction, even though you knew there wouldn’t be. You looked satisfied, so he lifted you lightly off of his lap and stood, gesturing toward the door.

“Do you want to test the ring more?” You glanced down at the simple silver circle and nodded, wanting more than anything to be in Dean Winchester’s arms. The real Dean Winchester.

—————

When Sam told Dean that Y/N wanted to see him, he looked skeptical, staring silently at his brother and asking him ‘why now?’ Sam simply pointed toward the stairs and told his brother to “go,” indicating that he would find out soon enough. 

Dean finished the whiskey in his glass in one large gulp, gaining a bit of courage to face the woman who he wanted nothing more than to hold, but had kicked him out moments before. 

Dean looked anxious as he stood in the door, waiting for you to tell him what his next move should be, and you motioned for him to come sit on the bed with you. He hesitated, but stepped forward slowly, like he had before, perching on the very end of the bed, as far away from you as he could get, and still be on the bed. You didn’t blame his hesitation, you had some of your own, as you took in what you needed to be the real Dean Winchester in this moment. Crawling forward hesitantly to sit up on your knees, you pushed Dean’s shoulder so he was facing you, one leg moving up on the bed, and wrapped an arm around his neck, the other gripping lightly at his bare wrist so the ring was touching it, like you had done to Sam. Dean kept his hands to himself for the moment watching you, and you waited for any sign of the sizzle of skin, holding your breath.

When none came you threw yourself at Dean, straddling his lap and nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. Dean was frozen for a few seconds, until he let out a breath of air, and wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could mirroring your position and planting a few chaste kisses against your pulse point. You groaned quietly, feeling heat rush through your body and grabbed fistfuls of Dean’s shirt, grounding yourself in the moment. This was Dean, he passed the test, it’s really him. You’re safe.

Dean felt your body begin to shake, and he pulled away, taking your face in his, and you turned and kissed his palm, giving him a small smile, which he returned, eyes filled with tears, grateful that you were in front of him. You leaned forward and kissed his lips, ignoring the way your body lurched back when he reacted and deepened the kiss, running his tongue along your bottom lip. You wanted more than anything for him to help you forget, but you couldn’t take this any further until he understood what had happened. Again. You didn’t have the security of Dean’s room at the bunker, or the darkness to shield you from what you were about to tell the man you loved, but you weren’t worried about the way he would view you. Rather you were scared of how much Dean would beat himself up over what you were about to say. 

You pulled back lightly, licking your lips and savoring the flavor of sweet whiskey and Dean on your mouth. Dean was staring at you intently, almost like he wasn’t believing you were actually here, and you rubbed at his shoulders in response, to remind him that you were real. And you were safe. 

“Dean,” you started, staring into his forest green eyes. “I have to tell you what happened…” You were suddenly hesitant, not knowing how to relive the worst moment of your life. Dean squeezed gently at your hips, letting you know he was there for you, but he spoke up as well. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything, baby. Cas told–” 

“I have to tell you my side of the story, Dean. Castiel wasn’t there for it.” You cut him off, and he nodded looking guilty for saying anything. You picked at a loose thread on Dean’s flannel while you found the right words. 

“I had just been sitting on the Impala when he grabbed me, and I woke up in some kind of damp room, shackled to the ceiling.” You had finally found your courage to get it all out and the words were suddenly pouring from your lips, Dean hanging on to every one. 

“He only took off my clothes the first time he visited. But when he came back the second, I knew he was going to take what he wanted. I resisted and he told me that he wanted me to enjoy it as well. And with that he turned into you…” You trailed off, getting emotional now, wrapped up in the moment you looked into the hunter’s green eyes, thinking you were finally being saved. 

“What!” Dean yelled, making you jump. He didn’t move to get up, but you could feel the anger radiating off of him, and he worked hard to contain himself as he waited for you to tell the rest of the story. But you simply placed your head back into the crook of his neck, hoping he could fill in the blanks himself this time. You laid soft kisses along his collarbone, hoping to release the tension in his shoulders, but he was long gone, surely imagining nothing but sinking a knife into Greg. 

You were getting tired as you clung onto Dean, exhausted from the day, and from retelling your story. Your emotions felt out of control, and you wanted nothing more than a deep, dreamless sleep. One that only came from being held by Dean. 

He shifted lightly when he felt you yawn against his neck, and moved to lay you back on the bed, when you grabbed onto his arm. 

“Stay with me.” You stated, peering up at Dean. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly and he nodded, moving to the other side of the bed, and stripped down to his simple black shirt and boxer briefs. He sprawled out on his bad, and reached for you, pulling you to lay your head against his chest, where you could hear the comforting thump thump thump of his heart. You were asleep in minutes. 

Dean, however, laid awake, plotting the long and slow torture of the thing that hurt you.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter contains mentions of assault. Please be aware if this is trigging for you!

You had been asleep for awhile, when you woke with a start, your body shaking slightly. Your legs were entwined with Dean’s under the blanket, and he had his hand clamping yours to his chest, as it rose up and down slowly with sleep. Untangling yourself from Dean while he slept soundly, you slid to the other end of the bed wondering what had woke you. You hadn’t even been the hardest sleeper, always having one eye open, but the sudden and abrupt waking usually followed a nightmare. You couldn’t remember having one. Stuck in your own thoughts, you jumped when a voice whispered out to you in the darkness, making you squeak. 

“Y/N.” The voice called quietly, and you shrunk back against the headboard, contemplating waking Dean, when the floppy haired man stepped into the soft light from the window. 

“Jesus, Sam….” You whispered back, glancing up at the man. He looked like he hadn’t slept, and was still fully clothed, flannel, jacket, and all. “You scared me.” Sam looked sheepish, but reached out his hand toward you with a quick, ‘I have to show you something.’ 

You took his hand and he lifted you abruptly off of the mattress, and through the open door to the hallway, urgency in his movements. Sam was tugging at you roughly, almost as if he was forcing you to follow, and you ground your feet in to halt his swift movements, pulling back at your arm. 

“Sam, what’s going on?” You asked the man carefully, looking into his cool grey eyes, which held no emotion. He seemed to be weighing his words carefully, when a door down the hall opened with a creak and you heard someone whisper “Y/N?” from behind you. Turning you caught eyes with a yawning Sam, his hair sleep mussed and tangled. 

You glanced back at the ‘Sam’ in front of you, and let out a short scream, which was muted by the monster’s hand clapping to your mouth quickly, his other arm snaking around your waist, and spinning you successfully shielding his body from the real Sam in front of you. 

Sam jumped into hunter mode, pulling out his gun and pointing it directly at you, aiming high at the monster shrinking lower and lower behind you. 

“Let her go.” Sam spoke level and you flinched back from the venom in his voice. You had never heard Sam sound so much like his older brother, and you breathed out a quick sigh against the shifter’s hand when the older Winchester emerged from the bedroom you had just left, still in his boxers and undershirt, his gun trained on the monster as well. 

Dean looked directly at you stating quickly, “it’s going to be okay, baby,” before addressing the shifter with slight amusement in his voice. 

“And here I thought I would actually have to hunt you down. But you stupidly decided to make a house call? Bold.” Dean was smiling, but you saw the anger vibrating through him as he stared daggers through the monster. You heard an unmistakable voice behind you, and realized that Greg must have reverted back to his true form, but the look on the hunter’s faces worried you, as they watched his mouth move intently. 

“What can I say?” Greg asked, sounding cavalier. “I can’t get enough of this girl.” Greg nuzzled against your cheek lightly and you struggled against his hold. You heard Dean growl suddenly, and you glanced into the hunter’s green eyes, begging him silently to get you away from this monster, but Dean’s eyes were still fixed on Greg’s. 

“How did you just turn so quickly?” Dean huffed out, and Greg laughed behind you evilly, the sound sending a chill to your bones. 

“You have no idea who I am do you?” Greg challenged and you suddenly remembered the ring on your hand. Raising it up and gripping tight to Greg’s wrist that was clamped down across your mouth, you waited for the satisfying burn of flesh, but didn’t hear anything. Greg chuckled again, pulling your hand simply from his wrist and letting it drop back at your hip. 

“Oh hunny-bear,” he cooed. “That was a good try. But silver has no effect on me.” You yelled into his palm and he increased his hold, making it hard for you to breath, continuing his villainous speech. 

“As you boys are hunters, I’ll break it down into terms you can easily understand. Most monster vulnerabilities don’t work on the alpha.” Greg was so close that you could almost feel the way he was smiling at Sam and Dean and it made you sick to be on this side of the fight, so far away from the security of your boys. Dean never wavered, clenching his jaw in response, but Sam, ever the empath, looked scared at what the shifter was telling them, and you felt tears slip down your cheeks. You realized that the boys didn’t have time to research this particular monster, and if they had no idea how to kill it, they had no way of saving you. You felt the weight of the realization, and you saw Dean recognize it as well, shaking his head at you almost in response to your silent realization. 

Greg was watching the entire situation intently, admiring how you and the hunters were having silent conversations with each other. He let out a breezy laugh, massaging your side a bit while he spoke, his fingers digging into the tender skin just above your hip bone. 

“You really do have a connection with these too, hunny. It’s truly incredible to see! I knew appearing as the younger hunter would make you feel comfort following me blindly, and now I see that it was truly a genius plan appearing as dear Dean here when we shared such a special moment.” You kept your eyes on Dean the entire time, trying to ignore Greg’s words, but tears continued to pour from your eyes down your cheeks and over his hand as he spoke. 

“You son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, taking a few steps closer, his gun raised high. Greg chuckled and simply crouched lower behind you, knowing Dean would never shoot you. 

“Oh, Dean-o. I’m really sorry, but you have to know that I will always hold a special place in Y/N’s life. You’re just going to have to accept that.” Greg was playing with them now, pushing the hunter’s buttons, and you hated the satisfaction he was gaining, knowing it was working in his favor. You shook your head at Dean, both a warning to stay back, and a reminder that what Greg was saying was far from the truth. 

Greg continued to speak, but you shut down your mind to the situation, a move that was quickly becoming your superpower for better or worse. You were desperate, and the longer Greg kept a hand clamped over your mouth the more you couldn’t consider any other plan. So you used your last trick, and prayed loudly in your head for your guardian angel to save you. You hoped that Castiel would have it in him to rescue you one more time. You grinned behind Greg’s hand when you heard the familiar fluttering sound you were growing to love hearing. 

Greg tightened his hold on you and turned slowly coming face-to-face with the blue eyed angel, who tilted his head to the side in confusion. 

“Hello, Y/N.” Castiel said in the same low monotone, his head moving to look behind Greg at Dean and Sam, in their pajamas, guns both raised, putting the pieces of the puzzle together for himself. Castiel’s attention returned to Greg and you thought you saw anger flash behind the Angel’s eyes, before he spoke measured, looking unwavering at the man holding you close. 

“I would let her go if I were you.” Honestly, Castiel looked pathetic standing in front of Greg who towered over him and you weren’t sure if the angel’s powers were anything compared, but you knew this was your only chance. Greg tried to keep the humor in his voice, but you could hear a hint of hesitation behind his words. 

“Well hello there. And who are you? A friend of Y/N’s?” Castiel merely stared on giving Greg that uncanny look. 

“My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord.” 

Greg openly laughed in response, turning to look back at Sam and Dean, “Is this guy for rea–” but Castiel cut him off with a smooth flick of his wrist and Greg was flying backward, dropping you from his grasp, and you fell to the floor at Castiel’s feet with a dull thud. You scrambled forward, moving to stand behind the angel, glancing around wildly for Greg, who had apparently completely disappeared. 

All you saw were Dean and Sam rushing toward you, but Castiel held up a hand lightly stopping them from approaching, as he offered you a hand and you stood next to him. He turned his blue eyes onto you and glanced up and down, with a simple “are you hurt?” You shook your head in response, and the angel looked satisfied before disappearing himself with a flutter of wings. 

Dean was at your side in a second, pulling you into his arms. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, giving him a kiss that let him know you were okay. You could feel his heart beating erratically, matching your own. You are okay, you repeated to yourself over and over again, but you knew that next time you might not be. The monster was still very much alive. 

You pushed Dean away gently at the thought, and headed toward the room Sam was sleeping in, where you knew your bag was. 

“Y/N?” Sam asked hesitantly as you brushed past him, Dean looking just as confused. Not wanting to waste any time you spoke over your shoulder quickly at the two concerned hunters. 

“We have to get out of here.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter contains brief mentions of assault and moments of smut (they do not coincide). Please be aware if this is trigging for you!

“Y/N,” Dean whispered, coming into the room. You had your back to him, throwing your clothes into your duffle, not bothering to fold anything. As soon as you got to Sam’s room and shut the door, you changed out of your sleep shorts and Sam’s flannel, opting for leggings and a loose baseball tee with the Minnesota Twins logo on it. You smiled to yourself, remembering Bobby’s present for your birthday so many years ago. You dad had scoffed at the bright blue fabric, as you lifted it out of the box carefully, looking questioningly at Bobby who merely shrugged looking awkward. He always wanted you to have a normal life and you guessed that meant watching baseball, which you did, for years, with Bobby by your side. 

You jumped slightly when Dean came in the room, not hearing the door open. He stopped a few feet away from you, but you didn’t turn to look at him, rather choosing to pull him lightly to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You pressed your ring lightly to his wrist, breathing out the breath you had been holding, and relaxed into his tight hold on you. It seemed backward in this moment, but you needed Dean to replace all of your Greg memories of the last two days. Though you didn’t feel completely comfortable in many situations, you felt comfortable with Dean’s arms around you. Dean sighed lowly kissing your collarbone lightly as you leaned into him. 

“Y/N,” he began again. “You know that we’re safe here, we don’t have to leave.” You shook your head at his words. You weren’t safe here, if today was any indication. Greg already made you question Dean and Sam, what if he appeared as Bobby, or Castiel and took two of your other saviors away? Even worse, you had no idea the extent of his powers, what if he could appear as John or your own father? You didn’t think you could handle that, so you shook your head at Dean’s words. 

“No, I want to go home.” Dean nodded and kissed you again, leaving the room and allowing you to get your stuff together. 

Dean closed the door with a soft click, turning to his brother leaning against the wall just outside of the bedroom. When Dean emerged Sam stood up straight, concern etched across his brow. 

“Is she okay?” He asked, worried that you were falling a part behind closed doors, not knowing who you could turn to, or who you could believe to be the real person. Sam felt guilty that the shifter used him to lure Y/N away from Dean, and he wasn’t sure that guilt was going to go away anytime soon. 

Dean nodded his head in response. “Yeah, she just wants to go home.” Sam nodded back, understanding the want to return to the bunker. So much had happened here at Bobby’s, and Sam was sure Dean was beating himself up even more for letting Y/N convince him to allow her to come with. His brother may never admit it, but Sam knew he felt safer behind the bunkers steel door. Dean opened his mouth to speak again when the familiar flutter of wings cut him off. Cas appeared, standing uncomfortably close to Dean, and Sam covered his mouth with his hand, suppressing the laugh that bubbled up, seeing the angel look so serious, and Dean look so uncomfortable. 

Dean’s back was against the wall, so with nowhere to go, he put a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Cas,” he began, looking seriously at the angel as if he were about to scold a small child. “We talked about this. Personal space?” 

Cas nodded and took two big steps back. “My apologies.” Dean gestured for him to say what he needed to, knowing Cas didn’t just show up for his health. 

“I followed the monster,” Cas began, clearing his throat. “He had returned to the place he was holding Y/N, but disappeared just as I was appearing behind him.” Dean’s look didn’t change, but Sam was going through every emotion, not knowing where to begin in tracking down this monster. Cas glanced between the two Winchesters, making sure he was clear to continue. 

“He disappeared somewhere in California, when I lost his trail. I’m sorry, I couldn’t be more helpful.” Cas looked both angry and upset with himself, and Dean couldn’t help but smile slightly at the blue-eyed man, knowing he loved Y/N, even just meeting her, as much as Sam did. He looked deep into the angel’s eyes before speaking. 

“You did what you could, Cas, And you saved Y/N, twice. She isn’t upset with you, and you shouldn’t be upset with yourself.” Cas nodded, and Sam stared confused at his brother’s sudden show of emotion. The entire situation was turning Dean more understanding and in tune with other’s emotions, and it gave Sam a bit of hope for both Dean and Y/N. Dean noticed his brother staring at him, and he narrowed his eyes, giving Sam a look only a brother could give, returning back to Cas. There’s the Dean I know, Sam thought to himself with a shake of his head and a small smile. All three men turned when the door behind them opened and Y/N emerged, looking exhausted. You walked swiftly to Dean’s side, laying your duffle at your feet. 

Cas stepped forward, looking down at his own feet. “Y/N, I followed the monster, but I wasn’t able to give you the justice you deserve. I’m so sorry.” You saw tears behind the angel’s bright blue eyes, and you rushed forward, engulfing the man in a strong hug. Cas looked awkward, not sure what to do with his hands, before he wrapped them slowly behind you, returning the hug. You didn’t speak, but hoped your embrace reminded Castiel that he did more for you in the last two days than you ever expected. You released your hold, and looked around at your boys with a long sigh. 

“I have to find Bobby.” Dean nodded, grabbing your duffel and heading outside to the Impala. “I’ll come with you” Sam nodded, not asking, and you understood why. Though you couldn’t help the image of what happened the last time you followed Sam blindly that bubbled to the surface. He seemed to sense your hesitation and held out his wrist for you, and you grasped it tightly, feeling your ring touch gently to his skin. When nothing happened, you nodded and headed downstairs, in search of your only remaining father figure. 

You and Sam searched every room, but couldn’t find any sign of the eldest hunter. You huffed out a sigh, just wanting to be home, but not wanting to leave without saying goodbye. Sam waited for your guidance, and you shrugged your shoulders, moving to Bobby’s desk, and searching his drawers for a piece of paper. You found an old receipt, and scrawled a quick goodbye, leaving your phone number, telling him to call you as soon as he read the note. Sam patted you on the shoulder, and you walked out of your childhood home and into the sleek black car. 

———-

Dean drove most of the way in silence, the radio playing an old Bob Seger tape quietly in the background. Everyone seemed tense. Even Sam was merely staring out the windshield, and hadn’t taken his phone out once. 

“Y/N,” Dean said suddenly, making you jump slightly. You were really getting sick of that you thought to yourself, but you let out a grunt in response, continuing to stare out the side window.

“Y/N, I know this might be hard,” Dean continued, rubbing a hand down his face, “but is there anything you might be able to tell us about the shifter from before…” He trailed off knowing what he was asking of you, and you turned to stare at him in the rearview mirror. 

“Dean.” Sam scolded, ever protective of you, and probably not wanting to hear the story first hand anyway. 

“Sam!” Dean responded back, louder than his brother, and you shrunk into the leather seat, afraid of a full-blown confrontation. “We have to figure out something! We have nothing on an alpha shapeshifter, and I’ve looked through dad’s journal twice.” You knew that Dean was only frustrated, but having to be on the other end of his yelling made tears raise to your eyes. You wanted to be strong, but you felt your resolve failing and all you wanted was to curl into bed and put these last few days behind you. Sam heard you sniffle quietly behind him, and he looked back quickly, witnessing a few tears drip down your cheeks. 

Dean opened his mouth ready to plead his case more, when Sam stopped him with a look, and Dean heard the soft noises you were making as well. He knew he was pushing you too hard, you had been through so much, but he wanted to find the bastard sooner rather than later, and if they didn’t know any of his weaknesses they might as well stop looking for him. He let out a sigh, and you glanced up at him from the back seat. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I just want to find him.” You nodded. You understood and you didn’t blame Dean for being upset, it was just all too much lately. And you couldn’t help the horrible thoughts that kept running through your mind. If Sam hadn’t come to see you that day, would any of this have happened? You would never blame Sam or Dean for the last few days, but you couldn’t help but think that you could be lounging in a hotel somewhere like before, your only concern being what game show you’d watch that night, had you not met up with the Winchesters again. The thoughts made you angry, and you suppressed the urge to lash out at yourself for being so selfish. You didn’t want to think anymore, and you definitely didn’t want to talk anymore. You’d help Dean and Sam with anything they wanted tomorrow. For now, you just wanted to sleep. Dean read your mind, as always, and shrugged off the flannel he was wearing, the car swearing a little, Sam scolding his brother again. Dean ignored him, handing his flannel to you without a word to use as a pillow. Instead you wrapped it around yourself like a makeshift blanket, breathing in the fading scent of his cologne, and fell instantly into a dreamless sleep. 

————-

They arrived at the bunker a few hours later as the sun was beginning to set. Dean and Sam had spoken quietly, while Y/N slept, about some sort of game plan. They concluded that someone in their life had to know how to kill this thing, but until they found the right information, Y/N would stay in the bunker, in Dean’s room. Dean wasn’t positive that you wanted to stay with him, but he felt better with you at least surrounded by weapons, and Dean would sleep on the floor if he had too. If it meant keeping you safe. 

They pulled silently into the garage and Dean cut the engine. Y/N hadn’t moved, and Dean contemplated waking you or carrying you into the bunker and letting you sleep. He didn’t want to frighten you, should you wake up, but you looked more peaceful than you had in awhile. Sam muttered that he’d handle the bags, so Dean got out, careful to close the Impala door quietly, opening the back door slowly to prevent the squeaking. You didn’t stir as Dean pulled you from the back seat into his arms. Dean noticed that you had lost a little weight over the last few years and were almost weightless in his arms as he carried you down the hallway and into his room, placing you down on the bed. You still had his flannel covering your body, and Dean pulled it slowly away, discarding it to the floor next to the bed. 

He turned to leave when you pulled harshly on his arm, almost sending him backwards onto the bed. When he turned, your eyes were big and you were staring up at him. 

“Please, don’t leave me Dean.” Dean stared back, confused by the sudden change in the tone of your voice. He thought it looked like you weren’t worried that he would leave the bedroom, but rather that he was leaving your life entirely. It was almost like your eyes were screaming that they needed him, and he lowered himself slowly to the bed. 

“Baby, I’m never going to leave you. What’s going on?” He asked quietly, while you pulled him down to you, pressing your lips to his in a desperate kiss. He hesitated for a moment or so, unsure of what was going on, but returned the kiss slowly, feeling your arms snake gently up his back and under his shirt. Dean broke the kiss, and you let out a quiet whine as he pulled your hands away from his back gently, placing them above his shirt on his chest, so he could look at you his hands firmly grasping your wrists. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” He asked again gently, eyes creased with concern as you looked into his green eyes. 

You weren’t sure what you were doing, but you suddenly wanted him, and it was more than wanting him to make you forget. You looked away from his eyes awkwardly, and he released a wrist to turn your head back to look at him.

“Hey,” he said again, his voice velvety soft. “It’s not that I don’t want this…” He finished, trailing off, taking your response as thinking he was rejecting you. You nodded that you believed him, never really overthinking his attraction to you with so much else going on. If anything, you questioned your own attraction to him after what happened. But Dean continued to be the only man who ever made you feel anything that could be considered intimate, even if the feelings popped up at unconventional times. Nothing about your life anymore was conventional anyway. 

Dean was stroking your cheek gently while he patiently watched you make sense of what was happening in your own mind, and in your own heart. But you didn’t want to talk anymore, and you didn’t want to think anymore. You just wanted to feel something other than fear, and sadness. Without thinking about it more, you pulled Dean’s face back down toward yours, attaching your lips again, hoping he could feel that you needed this. That you wanted him, and you didn’t want to think twice about it. 

Dean responded to your kiss, and you felt him groan quietly when you moved your hands back under his shirt, exploring his back, and hiking up his shirt in the process. Dean broke the kiss quickly, shrugging off his shirt, and returning his lips to yours, slowly this time, matching his pace to his hands making their way up your stomach, slipping under your shirt. You gasped lightly, the feeling of his hands sending chills throughout your body. You could feel his hands hesitate, and you moved your lips to lay lazy kisses across his bare chest in return. His hands tugged gently at the hem of your shirt, and you nodded, feeling him pull the shirt over your head and toss it near his own. You had a flash of emotion suddenly, but didn’t have time to think too much about it, as Dean was pulling down the cups of your thin bralette, and pressing his lips to the soft skin beneath. You felt your head fall back, as he explored his way across your chest, and down your stomach. You were completely lost in the feeling of his hands and mouth, but as he proceeded lower, you felt something in your head switch on, suddenly screaming at you to stop, and you flinched, turning your body to the side slightly at the urgency of the voice in your head. 

Dean pulled back immediately, eyes completely lust blown, but face a mix of confusion and something you couldn’t quite read. The voice in your head continued to scream, and you screwed up your eyes in pain, prompting Dean to stand up from the bed, pulling you to sit at the edge of the bed. He knelt down to your level, and you were sputtering out words trying to make sense of what was happening. 

“I’m so… I don’t… God, Dean…” Dean waited patiently, but you were spiraling into your own head and before you knew what was happening you were sobbing loudly, still attempting to explain yourself, while attempting to understand your own feelings. 

“I’m so sorry!” You sobbed out, Dean pulling you soft against his chest, not knowing what to say, simply smoothing down your hair comfortingly. You sat like this for awhile, until your body started to shake slightly from the cold air all around. Dean let you go, not looking directly at you, and pulling his own shirt on, before handing you yours. You slipped it on silently, and Dean stood in the middle of the room, awkwardly shuffling his feet back and forth. You were about to reach for him when he spoke up suddenly, his voice rough with emotion.

“I think I should maybe stay somewhere else tonight, Y/N… Let you have the bed to yourself.” He finished with a soft smile tugging at his lips, but he still wasn’t looking at you. You didn’t respond, so he simply nodded and headed toward the door without another word. Before you could stop yourself you were yelling out for him, new tears rushing down your face. 

“Dean, I’m so sorry! Please, please don’t leave me. I’m sorry!” You were frantic, and a voice in your head whispered that you were being pathetic, but you couldn’t stand if he was upset with you for pushing him too far. You had to know what was going on in his head, and you didn’t want to be alone. 

Dean was at your side in a second, pulling you into his lap so you were straddling him face buried in the crook of his neck. He whispered soothingly to you that ‘you were okay’ and ‘he wasn’t going anywhere,’ while you cried, gripping fistfuls of his t-shirt, and burying your face further into his neck, forcing your self to calm your breathing.

When your breathing was returning to normal and you calmed down slightly, Dean pulled you away from his chest lightly by the shoulders so he could look you in the eyes. 

“Baby, I am so sorry.” You could see the anguish behind his green eyes as he spoke, trying to keep his emotions in check. “I shouldn’t have let it go that far… I should have been able to control myself. That won’t happen again.” You looked deeply into his eyes, mouth slightly agape. He was blaming himself? 

You looked at him with a soft smile on your face and he looked confused for a moment before you spoke. “You have nothing to be sorry for, De. I…” You trailed off thinking of the right words. “I wanted that. I want you.” He smirked at you a little, the cocky teenager you knew and loved peeking through. You gave him a small scolding smile, and stroked his cheek, feeling him lean into it. God you loved this man. 

“I just don’t know how to get past this, Dean…” You were ashamed with how you were acting, your emotions continually all over the place. Dean pulled your head up to look at him, his thumbs swiping at the tears that were beginning to dry on your cheeks.

“I know how you’ll get past it.” You looked at him questioningly, the small smile on his face turning into a grin, as he leaned in and planted a kiss on your lips that tasted of hope, and good memories. He pulled away, keeping you close as he spoke. 

“We’ll get through this, and you wanna know why?” He paused to make sure you were listening and you were hanging on every word.

“We’ll get through it all because we’ll be together again, like when we were young.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback fuels me! What did you think? 
> 
> Also if you're so inclined (Ko-fi.com/hstevens5)


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